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OF  CALIFORNIA 

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THE  TRAGEDY  OF  ETARRE 


THE 

TRAGEDY   OF   ETARRE 

A  POEM 


BY 

RHYS  CARPENTER 


Nefa  gorft 

STURGIS  &  WALTON 

COMPANY 

1912 

All  righU  reserved 


'JMNUS 

Copyright,  1912, 
By  RHYS  CARPENTER. 

Set  up  and  electrotyped.    Published  March,  191 2. 


Nortsooli  Press 

J.  B.  Gushing  Co.  —  Berwick  &  Smith  Ca 

Norwood,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


CHARACTERS  OF  THE  POEM 

Pelleas 

Gawaine,  knight  of  the  Table  Round 

Fergus,  attendant  on  Pelleas 

Etarre 

AiLEEN,  maid  to  Etarre 

AVRAN 

Balarin    knights  of  Etarre 
Maris 


The  scene  is  laid  in  the  Country  of  Etarre 


M772425 


.■jSfk^ 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  ETARRE 


PROLOGUE 

SCENE :  The  curtain  rises  upon  shifting  fog-clouds 
which  drive  across  the  stage  in  ceaseless  unrest. 
Gawaine  is  half  visible,  struggling  against  the 
grey  drift, 

Gawaine 

Is  this  the  dawn  whose  fingers  strive  so  weak 
To  pluck  away  the  cHnging  shroud  of  night, 
Or  is  this  some  unlightened,  sullen  land 
Fallen  between  the  darkness  and  the  day  ? 
Back  from  me,  shrouded  phantoms,  misty  sprites  ! 
This  is  no  time  to  whirl  your  shadow-dance : 
Seek  out  the  flooded  marshes  of  the  North 
If  ye  would  revel ;  seek  the  sunless  heights 
And  laugh  along  their  chasms  and  dark  ravines. 
Or  frown  and  lower  on  plain  of  gloomy  lakes. 
Or  battle  with  the  giants  of  the  hills. 

[He  unsheathes  his  sword.] 
Since  ye  have  shape  and  substance,  fear  this  blade. 
Shifting  and  mocking  though  ye  vex  mine  eyes, 
Yet  are  ye  more  than  breath  of  mindless  air. 
For  here  I  see  your  bodies*  countenance 
That  leers  against  me,  stupid  mouth  ajar, 

[1] 


^ofe'Vi. 


And  there  I  see  your  clutching  hands  which  stretch 
With  boneless  fingers,  snatching  at  the  wind. 

[He  strikes.] 
Lo,  how  I  cleft  thee,  shuddering  breast  and  waist 
From  formless  nether-limbs  !     Thy  silly  strength 
Is  thistle-down  that's  harried  by  the  storm. 
Or  rain-drop*s  airy  bubble  threatening 
With  tiny  voice  the  clarion-mouthed  sea. 
Give  way,  weak  phantom-thoughts  of  impotence, 
Less  real  than  clouded  dreams  that  fall  and  break 
In  splintered  crystals  of  awakening. 
Grey-blooded,  mirthless  things  that  toss  and  fret, 
I  drive  you  back  before  me,  void  and  vain. 
[He  disappears  in  the  fog,  cleaving  with  his  sword 

the  clouds  which  press  in  on  every  side.     From 

the  unseen  background  are  heard  three  voices 

singing.] 

Song 

Children  of  the  misty  plain, 

Creatures  wrought  of  cloud  and  rain. 

Shadowed  phantoms  of  the  brain 
Of  the  dreaming  earth. 

Fade  and  vanish  !  in  the  sun 

All  your  magic  is  undone. 

All  your  charmed  webs  unspun. 
Tangles  little  worth, 

Tattered  shreds  and  wisps  of  grey 

By  the  breezes  swept  away, 

Smitten  by  the  swords  of  day. 

[During  the  song  the  Jog  has  begun  to  clear.] 

Fade  and  vanish,  take  you  hence. 

Loose  your  revel,  break  your  spell, 
[2] 


Crush  the  heaven's  h'ghtless  shell ; 
Hidden  in  the  magic  well. 

Held  enfettered  by  our  thrall, 
Move  no  wing  and  stir  no  sense. 

Bide  imprisoned  till  we  call. 

[The  fog  has  entirely  cleared.] 

SCENE:  A  woodland  pool,  about  which  stand  three 
maidens,  the  first  of  whom  is  young,  the  second 
in  the  mid  of  life,  the  third  old,  with  grey- 
streaked  hair.  The  trees  show  autumn  leafage. 
Early  morning. 

Gawaine 

What  sprites  are  ye  that  weave  a  riddled  song 
Whereby  the  very  forces  of  the  sky 
Are  held  enmeshed  in  sure  obedience  ? 

The  Youngest 

Draw  near  and  hearken  to  our  speech. 
For  we  have  wonders  on  our  lips 

And  work  strange  magic  with  our  tongue. 

The  Second 

On  sable  reef  and  golden  beach 
By  will  of  us  sea-things  and  ships 
In  wrack  of  wind  and  wave  are  flung. 

The  Eldest 

The  fingers  of  our  fortune  reach 
From  moon  to  sun  and  work  eclipse 

Whereby  dead  stars  are  fashioned  young. 
[3] 


Gawaine 

What  wild  black  speech  is  this  of  sun  and  star. 
And  what  have  ye  to  do  with  ruined  ships  ? 
Are  ye  the  devil's  handmaids  working  grief 
Against  the  sunlit  ways  of  God  ? 

The  Eldest 

We  guard : 
Ours  is  a  sacred  heritage. 

The  Second 

We  wait : 
Ours  is  a  dark  fulfilment. 

The  Youngest 

We  attain : 
For  we  are  one  with  all  that  moves  and  is. 

Gawaine 

What  ye  attain  I  know  not,  why  ye  wait 

Is  hidden  till  the  waiting  hour  be  done, 

And  what  ye  guard  I  see  not,  yet  am  fain 

To  snatch  this  knowledge  from  your  flying  speech 

As  feather  stricken  from  a  fleeing  bird. 

[He  approaches  the  three.] 

The  Second 

The  plume  that  flutters  down  the  tired  wind 
Is  not  more  idly  grasped,  nor  with  less  toil 
Attained,  than  is  the  secret  of  our  word. 

[4] 


Gawaine 

Is  this  a  spring  wherein  fair  water  lies. 
Or  but  illusion's  round,  some  silver  gleam 
Caught  up  and  pent  within  the  hoop  of  night, 
A  mirror  wrought  of  nothing  ?     Nay,  but  here 
Is  water  welcome  to  the  thirsty  mouth  ! 
I  pray  you  by  all  holy  thoughts  and  names 
Give  me  to  drink  !     Three  days  of  wandering 
Have  parched  my  lips  and  snapped  my  strength 
in  twain. 

The  Youngest 

The  well  of  strange  adventure :  whoso  drinks 
Shall  fill  the  changing  pages  of  his  deeds 
With  words  of  written  wonder. 

Gawaine 

And  the  king 
Has  nought  of  higher  praise  to  give  his  knights 
Than  this :  "  They  sought  adventure  and  attained." 
Give  me  to  drink.     Alone  and  without  steed, 
Wearied  with  hunger,  stricken  with  fatigue, 
I  take  upon  me  danger,  toil,  and  strife. 
And  drink  adventure  with  an  eager  mouth ; 
For  I  am  Gawaine,  and  of  Arthur's  court ! 

The  Eldest 

Before  that  hour  when  over  stony  ways 
Thy  steed  was  broken,  never  in  the  lists 
To  run  against  the  wind  with  nostrils  wide 
Or  stand  again  the  shock  of  breaking  spears, 

[5] 


Before,  alone  in  wood  and  tangled  glade. 
Thy  feet  strove  sadly,  seeking  hermitage. 
We  knew  of  Gawaine,  dreaming  he  would  come 
And  beg  a  draught  to  quench  his  bitter  thirst. 

Gawaine 
"What  tale  is  this  ?    Ye  knew  that  I  should  come  ? 

The  Eldest 
Yea,  'twas  our  knowledge  that  this  thing  should  be. 

Gawaine 

Beneath  gold  raiment  lurks  deceptive  heart 
And  too-great  knowledge  is  a  mask  for  ill. 
I  fear  you  that  are  fair  of  face,  and  wise 
Beyond  all  proper  wisdom  of  mankind. 
God  and  the  devil's  workers  are  alone 
In  such  foreknowledge. 

The  Eldest 

Find  no  fear  of  us. 
This  was  a  dream :  we  are  beset  with  dreams. 
What  faults  of  ours  if  they  be  always  true  ? 
We  cannot  guide  our  dreams,  they  are  of  God. 

The  Second 

We  are  the  warders  of  a  deathless  source. 
Draw  near  and  drink,  and  have  no  further  fear. 

The  Youngest 
We  give,  yet  give  not  save  for  gift's  return. 

[6] 


Gawaine 
What  will  ye  of  me  ? 

The  Second 

That  which  all  must  give. 
Judgement  between  us  of  his  true  desire. 

Gawaine 

The  shrouds  of  clinging  words  are  yet  undrawn, 
And  deep  enfolded  lies  the  inner  wish : 
I  know  not  what  ye  say,  nor  what  ye  will. 

The  Youngest 

No  colours  of  strange  magic  hide  our  speech. 
The  well  of  strange  adventure :  w^hoso  drinks 
Shall  choose  between  us  whom  his  true  desire 
Would  make  companion  in  the  day  of  deeds. 

Gawaine 

Is  this  the  price  wherewith  a  draught  is  paid  ? 
Small  price  and  quickly  given.     Yet  to  choose 
Vexes  the  spirit  with  a  running  doubt 
That  will  not  rest. 

The  Youngest 

Nay,  drink  thy  draught. 
And  when  the  clamour  of  the  hounds  of  thirst 
Has  ceased  above  its  quarry,  and  thy  lips 
Are  drinking  in  their  long-sought  sustenance, 
Perchance  thy  spirit's  fire  shall  rise  again 

[7] 


Until  the  lamp  of  judgement  shall  be  light 
Within  thy  mind,  to  cast  its  faultless  shine 
Upon  our  waiting  and  release  thy  doubt. 

The  Second 

Loosen  thy  helm  and  make  of  it  thy  bowl. 
Thy  silver  goblet  dipping  crystal  wine. 

Gawaine 

The  subtle  threads  of  water  twist  and  spin 
And  will  not  be  contained  within  a  helm. 

The  Second 
Nay,  make  thy  trial. 

Gawaine 

If  there  be  magic  here, 
Perchance  the  helm  will  hold  the  dwindling  weight ; 
Else  is  it  vain.     Yet  let  my  hands  essay 
What  soul  and  body  thirst  for ;   and  ye  streams 
Of  shadowed  water,  lend  your  kindly  aid. 
[He  looses  his  helmet  and  dips  it  into  the  well  until  it 
is  filled  to  the  brim.     He  raises  it  to  his  lips^ 
andy  stooping  above  it^  drinks  long.] 
Through  all  the  barren  chambers  of  my  soul 
There  went  the  sound  of  music  and  a  voice 
That  woke  the  silence  with  a  song  of  life ; 
And  my  own  spirit  sang.     Through  open  doors 
Came  breath  of  springtime,  earth's  awakening, 
The  resurrection  from  the  graves  of  sleep. 

[8] 


i 


The  Second 

Look  down,  look  down :  the  water  at  thy  feet 

Is  troubled  with  the  coming  of  a  dream. 

[Gawaine  bends  over  the  well  and  stares  into  its 

depths.] 

Gawaine 

What  world  of  changing  pageants  here  is  hid  ? 

Across  the  mirrored  passage  of  the  well 

Move  bright  processions,  glittering  array 

Of  bannered  knights  and  charging  battle-fields. 

They  shift  like  oil  on  silent  rivers  borne 

And    blend  quick   colours   caught   from  rainbow 

heights 
With  gold  and  silver  pride  of  broidered  silks 
Precious  beyond  all  treasured  count  of  wealth. 

[He  remains,  staring  spellbound,] 
The  armies  pass,  and  now  again  the  sky 
Lies  here  reflected,  and  the  shaded  trees 
Bring  silence  with  their  canopy  of  green. 
There  sped  a  swallow  like  a  gleam  of  grey, 
And  here  the  wind  went  laughing  through  the 

leaves. 
The  magic  show  has  passed. 

The  Youngest 

It  will  renew. 
Some  fuller  vision  draws  across  the  depths. 

The  Eldest 

What  seest  thou,  O  Gawaine  ?  for  mine  eyes 
Are  not  as  are  my  sister's,  keen  to  mark 

[9] 


From  farthest  bounds  the  uttermost  approach, 
And  in  quick  vision  versed ;  yet  mine  retain 
Their  memories,  unfaded  for  all  time. 

Gawaine 

An  armoured  knight  in  shameful  wise  is  borne 
Bound  to  the  belly  of  a  drooping  steed ; 
Three  sorry  knaves  of  little  stature  drag 
Th'  unwilling  bridle.     Now  the  dream  is  passed. 
What  sight  was  this  ?  what  riddle  of  a  world 
Where  men  are  pictures  on  the  water's  shield, 
And  things  go  by  without  our  minds'  control 
Like  scattered  dreams  when  body's  maladies 
Assail  the  brain  and  make  of  it  their  toy  ? 

The  Youngest 

This  is  thy  future :  time's  processional 
Moves  ever  through  the  water's  mirrored  depth. 
And  he  who  drinks  may  gain  a  broken  glimpse 
Within  the  endless  change  of  shape  and  form 
Wherewith  the  false,  illusive  world  of  sense 
Doth  clothe  itself  in  unreality. 

Gawaine 

Am  I  that  knight,  in  wretched  manner  bound  ? 
Shall  others  drag  me  at  their  bridle's  will  ? 
Would  I  were  slain  in  battle,  ere  such  fate 
Had  darkened  all  the  splendour  of  my  deeds 
And  over  all  the  glory  of  great  wars 
And  broken  fields  of  battle  cast  a  pall. 
[10] 


The  Youngest 
My  knight  he  is  and  loyally  he  serves. 
But  let  thine  eyes  and  not  thy  hps  demand 
Response :  lean  forth  above  the  crystal  flood 
And  with  keen  search  from  visioned  future  pluck 
A  present  knowledge ;  in  those  depths  there  lie 
The  figures,  shapes,  and  fashions  of  all  things. 
Call  forth  again  its  magic  pageantry. 
And  seek  thy  answer  there. 

Gawaine 

The  depths  are  stirred, 
Light  leaps  from  shadow,  figures  move  and  sway 
And  gather  into  outline  fraught  with  life.  ... 
Unbound  he  lies,  the  horse  with  feet  unmoved 
Crops  short  the  herbage,  triple  caitiff  knights 
Have  laid  their  hands  beneath  him ;  now  they  toil 
Across  the  gorse ;  his  helpless  body  hangs 
With  legs  and  arms  that  strike  against  the  ground 
In  mimic  eagerness  and  mock  embrace. 
And  here  they  move  beyond  the  mirror's  rim, 
And  lo,  myself,  approaching  on  the  hill !  .  .  . 
Dark  !  .  .  .  dark  !   .  .  .  more    quick    than    sun 

before  the  storm. 
Or  moon  cloud-ridden,  sped  the  light  away. 
This  water,  gleaming  with  the  shapes  of  men. 
Is  now  but  water  — 

The  Second 

And  therewith  fulfils 
Thy  thirst,  and  calls  upon  thee  for  thy  word. 
That  pledged  reward,  that  choice  between  our  lives. 

[11] 


Gawaine 

How  ran  your  saying  ?     "Whoso  drinks 

Shall  choose  among  us  her  whom  true  desire 

Would  make  companion  in  the  day  of  deeds.'* 

Fair  are  ye  all :  here  lies  no  price  to  pay, 

But  some  reward,  heav'n-sent  to  quench  desire. 

Fair  are  ye  all,  and  therein  lurks  the  doubt : 

I  choose  the  one,  and  straight  the  other  two 

Neglected  rankle,  till  a  gaping  wound 

Across  my  memory  cries  out  regret. 

And  lo,  I  know  not  whom  my  choice  approves. 

Yet  often,  when  our  brains  are  still  at  fault. 

Still  measuring  confusion,  weighing  doubts. 

There  wakens  in  our  heart  a  sudden  fire 

To  guide  the  will  and  light  the  darkened  thought. 

I  pray  you,  therefore,  be  compassionate 

And  find  no  evil  in  my  words ;  their  fault. 

If  fault  they  hold,  set  not  against  my  charge, 

But  lay  their  burden  at  the  doors  of  Them 

Who  fashioned  men  and  gave  them  their  desires. 

The  Eldest 

To  him  that  cries  my  name,  I  bring  a  gift 
Of  wisdom  greater  than  the  strength  of  kings. 
Mine  eyes  have  seen,  through  many  a  changing 

year. 
The  circles  of  men's  life  revolve,  return. 
Through  birth  and  childhood  unto  age  and  death. 
My  lips  can  tell  thee  tales  and  mysteries 
Of  olden  days  when  dragons  held  the  earth 
And  creatures  of  the  slime  were  on  the  sea, 
[12] 


When  men  did  battle  in  fierce,  brutish  wise 
And  Hved  in  hollow  caverns  of  the  hills. 

Gawaine 

The  past  I  love  not :  'tis  a  murdered  life, 
A  corpse  wherein  the  worms  of  memory  cling. 
I  like  not  tales,  they  haunt  the  present  deed 
And    make    the   sword-edge    tremble  with  their 

dreams. 
The  faltering  spear-shaft  snap  within  our  hands. 

The  Youngest 

But  I  am  one  who  never  felt  the  past 
Blow  Hke  the  bitter  wind  from  winter  seas. 
For  me  the  world  is  yet  a  dream  unheard, 
A  flower  whose  cup  has  never  held  the  sun. 
Turn  unto  me  and  love  me ;  thou  and  I 
Shall  guide  anew  the  world,  restore  the  right, 
And  make  of  men  a  goodlier,  nobler  race. 

Gawaine 

There  is  nought  certain  in  this  world  of  change 
Save  what  our  hands  can  grasp,  our  eyes  behold ; 
All  else  is  mockery  of  chance  and  time, 
A  golden  bauble,  a  deceptive  lure, 
A  sunlit  rainbow  seen  across  the  clouds,  — 
Draw  nearer,  there  is  nothing :  mist  and  rain. 
And  thou,  fair  maid  upon  the  threshold  caught 
With  eager  feet  half  ventured,  half  afraid. 
Thy  promise  is  not  yet  fulfilment  grown. 
Thine  eyes  are  mirrors  of  a  future  world, 

[131 


Foreboders  of  enchantment,  giving  view 
On  womanhood  and  sweet  matured  deHghts, 
Still  hidden,  now,  in  virginal  reserve. 

[He  turns  towards  the  Second  Maiden.] 
But  thou  whose  gaze  is  neither  sad  nor  gay. 
Not  sad  for  years  behind  thee  taken  flight. 
Nor  gay  with  hope  of  pleasant  days  unseen. 
But  full  with  knowledge  of  a  present  grace. 
Demanding  not  from  future  or  from  past. 
Secure  within  the  fastness  of  thy  ways. 
Thou  art  to  me  a  token  and  a  sign 
Of  perfect  womanhood's  unyielding  charm. 
For  matchless  adoration  set  apart. 
I  choose  thee  for  the  mistress  whom  my  spear 
Shall  champion  against  the  warring  earth ; 
My  sword  shall  bear  thy  name  through  cloven  steel 
Of  foeman's  helm  and  reeling  battle-shield ; 
And  like  a  beacon  shalt  thou  blaze  and  burn 
Above  the  lists,  through  cries  of  fallen  men. 
To  light  me  into  battle,  till  I  grasp. 
With  victor's  hand,  th'  unsteady  plume  of  fame. 

The  Second 

The  choice  is  made,  the  choosing  spirit  bound ; 
The  reed  is  cut,  the  spoken  word  is  writ ; 
Closed  lies  the  book ;  already,  many  hands 
Are  fashioning  the  unrelenting  seal. 
The  hour  is  here  wherein  thou  shalt  depart. 
In  form  invisible  I  come  to  guide 
Thy  shifting  purpose  and  uncertain  will. 
Go  forth  and  seek  fulfilment  from  thy  choice : 
Beyond  this  wood  there  lies  the  waiting  world 

[14] 


And  many  deeds  therein,  to  do  or  spurn. 
Across  the  shifting  picture  of  thy  fate 
Lie  sun  and  shadow  of  incessant  change 
And  nought  of  steadfast  purpose  under  all 
Save  me,  in  guise  unseen,  to  lead  thy  hand 
From  fortune  into  favour,  love,  and  strife. 
Farewell,  and  fare  as  best  such  spirits  may 
That  choose  my  counsel ;  theirs  is  but  a  life 
That  mocks  its  own  attainment,  wrought  in  vain. 
[She  bends  over  the  well  and  speaks  in  incantation.] 

Veil  the  light : 

Hide  the  day  ! 

Shadow  and  silence  ! 

Dreamless  sleep  ! 
Spirits  hidden  in  the  well. 
Bound  beneath  a  magic  spell. 
Stirring  neither  limb  nor  sense 
In  an  idle  impotence. 
Rise  against  the  glaring  day. 

Spreading  sable  shrouds  and  dun, 
Cover  earth  and  sky  with  grey ; 

Cast  your  veils  against  the  sun  ! 
[As  she  speaks,  the  light  gradually  wanes.     From  the 
well  a  fine  mist  begins  to  rise.] 

Gawaine 

By  sorcery  accursed  I  stand  agape 
Nor  stretch  a  thwarting  hand  to  break  the  spell. 
Were  I  a  cliff,  a  thousand  ages  old. 
Or  gnarled  pine  deep-rooted  in  the  rock, 
I  could  not  stand  more  idly,  nor  endure 
[15] 


More  helpless  in  the  surging  front  of  ill. 
[The  mist  grows  ever  heavier,  until  a  dense  fog,  ris- 
ing  from  the  well,  has  covered  the  entire  stage.] 

The  Three  Maidens  [singing] 

Damp  and  mist  and  heavy  vapour. 

Shrouded  fog  and  dripping  cold, 
Quench  the  sunlight's  fallen  taper. 

Hide  away  the  flame  of  gold. 
Out  of  pond  and  becken  cool. 

Out  of  well  and  fountain  head, 
Out  of  tree-enshadowed  pool 

Where  the  autumn  leaves  lie  dead, 
Where  no  deer  with  frightened  feet 
Ever  leapt  in  terror  fleet. 

Out  of  marshy  river  bed 
Where  no  forest  creature  drank. 

Out  of  swamp  and  fen  arisen. 

Break  your  bonds  and  loose  your  prison. 
Water  vapours,  grey  and  dank  ! 

[The  fog  has  completely  hidden  everything.  The 
singing  voices  have  drifted  ever  further  and 
further  away,  until  at  last  the  song  dies  in  the 
distance.  A  long  silence  follows.  For  several 
minutes  the  stage  remains  grey  and  void.  At 
last  the  fog  begins  to  clear.] 


[16] 


ACT  ONE 

SCENE:  A  wild  upland  open  to  the  sky.  Hill' 
slopes  with  scattered  firs.  The  ground  is 
covered  with  gorse-hushes,  knee-high,  in  golden 
bloom.  The  last  shreds  of  fog  drift  off  over  the 
moors  to  the  left  and  vanish,  revealing  far-away 
the  gleaming  towers  of  the  Castle  of  Etarre. 
Full  morning.  Avran,  Balarin,  and  Maris 
stand  above  the  helpless  body  of  Pelleas. 

Avran 

Enough  of  drudge  and  drag :  here  let  him  lie. 
The  pricking  gorse  has  played  an  eager  bride 
And  clapped  him  close  in  her  unwelcome  arms. 

Balarin 

A  weary  work  fulfilling  punishment ! 
Too  often  in  the  scourger's  thankless  toil 
The  swinging  lash  flies  back,  and  with  shrewd  blow 
Assails  th'  inflicting  hand  :  so  is't  with  us. 
Who  strain  against  yon  living  weight  of  mail 
With  bloodless  fingers,  and  with  stumbling  feet 
Through  country-side  accurst  scarce  feel  our  way ; 
Small  glory  have  we  got  us  therewithal. 
This  is  our  fame :  to  counter  with  a  knight 

[17] 


Who  will  not  lift  his  spear  against  our  shields, 
A  mad-cap  creature  in  whose  brain  there  sits 
The  bird  of  folly.     Truth,  a  mighty  task. 

AVRAN 

And  here,  within  the  growing  heat  of  morn. 
We  come  like  serfs  in  secret  burial. 
Dragging  a  living  corpse  beneath  the  sky. 
Enough,  enough  !  this  is  no  food  for  knights ; 
Our  very  horses  would  revolt  the  taste 
And  eye  their  masters  with  a  keen  disdain. 

Maris 

There  is  a  feast  which  no  knight  may  refuse 

If  he  be  bid  to  table ;  all  that  owe 

Allegiance  to  an  overlord  must  eat 

The  meat  of  service,  drink  the  willing  wine 

Of  fealty,  whereby  true  knighthood  lives. 

You  know  from  whom  you  draw  your  honour's 

strength ; 
She  laid  upon  us  bond  of  her  commands 
And  bade  us  from  the  belly  of  his  steed 
Unbind  this  knight  and  over  briar  and  thorn 
Drag  out  his  body  till  the  breath  be  faint : 
So  should  his  courage  vanish  like  a  dream, 
And  that  mad  frequency  of  his  desire 
Be  staid  to  abstinence.     Up  !  drag  him  on. 

AvRAN 

Then  snare  the  sun  and  strangle  out  its  heat. 
Go,  draw  cool  shadows  out  of  distant  trees 
And  wake  the  winds  that  sleep  upon  the  hills. 

[18] 


Balarin 

Call  back  our  bodies'  breath  that's  taken  flight 
At  sight  of  labour,  like  a  bonded  wretch. 

Maris 
Then  let  him  lie,  and  heaven  rest  his  soul. 

Balarin 

The  mighty  Pelleas,  the  rumoured  knight 
Well  proven  in  the  midmost  toil  of  war. 
How  fares  he  now,  the  hero  of  the  lance. 
The  champion  such  as  men  have  never  seen  ? 

AVRAN 

In  curious  wise  beneath  the  open  sun 

He  dreams  of  battle,  while  the  springing  gorse 

Grows  up  unheard  around  his  silent  helm. 

Balarin 

But  when  his  bruised  limbs  have  found  the  balm 
Of  first  recovery,  he'll  rise  and  seek 
To  draw  the  shattered  ships  of  his  emprise 
To  greater  battles  over  windier  deeps. 

AvRAN 

'Twere  well  to  slay  him  here  and  quench  his  soul. 
Else  will  the  spirit  that  indwells  his  breast 
Grow  wings  once  more  and  fly  above  our  heads 
Like  loosened  hawk  against  the  fleeing  hare. 

118] 


Maris 

We  may  not  slay  him,  tho'  'twere  mercy's  hand 
Which  dealt  that  stroke. 

AVRAN 

Then  will  he,  like  a  midge, 
In  vast  persistence  make  our  lives  a  curse 
Of  tiny  wounds  and  quick  annoyances. 

Maris 

'Twill  prove  him  small  avail  to  prick  and  sting : 
The  midge,  if  he  return  too  often,  learns 
That  wings  so  small  can  yet  be  clipped  and  crushed 
And  tiny  body  caught  and  buffeted. 

AvRAN 

'Twere  well  to  hold  it  longer  to  its  cage ; 
Yet  here  it  has  its  freedom  and  the  world 
Wherein  to  fly  abroad,  and  lo,  it  lies 
Ungrateful,  without  sign  of  thanks  or  praise. 
Fly  warrior,  we  salute  thee  !     Noisy  gnat. 
Midge  of  the  marshes,  fare  thee  well ! 

Balarin 

All  hail. 
Chit-sparrow ;  sit  i'  the  bush  and  braggart  sing ; 
O  valiant  bird  !  O  wren  with  eagle's  soul ! 
An  owl  that  flies  in  daytime  without  eyes. 
[Balarin  and  Avran  depart  across  the  hill.    Maris 
followSf  but  hesitates  and  turns  back.] 
[20] 


mR 


Maris  [standing  above  the  body  of  Pelleas] 

Too  many  times,  far,  far  too  many  times 

In  this  same  outcome  of  the  selfsame  deed 

Have  we  prevailed  above  you,  dragged  you  off, 

Railed  over  you  and  spoken  out  our  curse 

Of  bitterness  against  your  foolish  ways 

And  ears  forever  thirsting  for  abuse. 

Too  many  times  our  lips  have  brewed  this  draught 

And  mixed  the  gall  of  laughter  with  farewell, 

A  honeyed  mead  in  truth,  a  stirrup  cup 

To  speed  you  in  your  folly.     Change  your  ways  ! 

But  if  you  fall  once  more  within  our  hands, 

Expect  no  better  fare  from  us,  nor  yet 

From  her  that  sent  us,  whom  your  seeking  eyes 

Shall  never  look  upon  again. 

[Pelleas  moves  slightly,] 

Pelleas 

Etarre ! 

Maris 

Yes,  'tis  Etarre  !  the  one  sweet  word  forlorn 
That  lies  upon  your  lips  like  magic  seal. 
Like  stroke  of  sorcery  and  mystic  spell 
Awak'ning  fever  in  your  blood  and  brain 
That  iron  may  not  chill,  nor  dungeon  tame  ! 

[He  goes  off.    Silence,] 

Pelleas  [moaning] 

O  world  !  O  disillusion  ! 

[In  a  sudden  passionate  outburst] 
[211 


Black  despair. 
Come,  cover  me  with  all  the  shrouds  of  night ! 
[Silence.    Fergus,   attendant  on  Pelleas,  comes 
over  the  hill  to  the  right.] 

Fergus 
I  marked  them  how  they  stood  upon  this  hill 
In  final  converse  of  an  evil  deed. 
Here,  here  upon  these  trackless,  silent  slopes 
Within  the  yellow  reaches  of  the  gorse 
Lies  Pelleas  on  prison-bed  of  thorns. 
Bound  with  the  glowing  fetters  of  the  sun. 
O  misery,  that  in  his  mind  should  dwell 
Submission  unto  knaves,  the  lowered  shaft. 
The  sunken  sword,  the  battle  void  and  thin. 
Alas  the  name  that  rang  in  other  days  ! 
The  knight  whose  deeds  dwelt  ever  on  the  lips 
Of  others'  praises  —  how  with  single  hand 
He  smote  the  robbers  of  the  woods  and  hills 
With  keen  destruction  —  how  within  the  lists 
His  spear  was  fire,  a  gathered  shaft  of  light. 
His  battle-cry  the  voices  of  the  storm. 
And  now  his  name  is  overset  with  growth 
Of  dark  abuse  and  shameful  calumny, 
And  those  that  should  have  reeled  and  sunk  to 

earth 
In  red  disaster  and  dark  swoon  of  sense. 
These,    even   these,    mean    varlets,    thieves,    and 

rogues. 
Drag  Pelleas  through  upland  gorse  and  way 
And  throw  him  like  a  carcase  for  the  birds  ! 

[He  casts  about  him  in  the  gorse.] 
[22] 


In  vain :   in  vain.      Oh,   would  that  eyes  were 

made 
To  pierce  the  barriers  which  hide  their  goal. 
Or  cleave  like  lightning  in  a  darkened  sky. 
Bringing  their  own  fierce  strength  wherewith  to 

see. 
Here,  somewhere  here,  he  lies  in  bitterness 
With  broken  mail  and  battered  helmet  thrown, 
A  useless  tool  discarded  from  the  hands 
Of  little  workers  fashioning  misdeeds. 
Etarre  !     Etarre  !  accursed  beauteous  face 
That  shines  like  fire  of  madness  in  his  eyes 
And  makes  his  courage  falter  like  a  flame ; 
Etarre  !     Etarre  !  from  heaven's  utmost  height 
May  God's  unfailing  anger  strike  you  down 
And  burn  that  body  like  a  blackened  tree  ! 
May  you  be  fire  engulfed  with  water-floods. 
May  you  be  embers  smouldered  into  death. 
May  you  be  ashes  blown  across  the  air  ! 
I  hate  you  !  who  are  poison  in  my  lips ; 
Within  my  mouth  your  name  runs  like  a  curse, 
A  thing  to  rail  against  with  tongue  and  teeth. 

[He  comes  upon  Pelleas.] 
O  mighty  master  —  fallen,  fallen,  fallen. 
See,  I  am  here,  your  servant,  nigh  at  hand 
To  raise  you  up,  to  loose  your  helm  and  mail 
And  with  fresh  water  lave  your  sunken  eyes 
And  wet  your  thirsty  lips  and  cheeks  and  hair. 

[Pelleas  moves  slightly ^  groaning,] 
Midway  between  the  waking  sense  he  swoons. 
Ah,  master,  fallen  master,  turn  and  speak ! 


[23] 


Pelleas 

Leave  me.     Depart.     I  have  no  wish  for  you. 
Go,  bring  me  death  to  minister  my  needs. 

Fergus 

Death's  a  false  friend,  a  thief  within  your  tents ; 
He'll  stab  you  in  your  slumber.     Cast  him  out ! 
[Fergus    has    been    stooping    above    Pelleas.     He 

busies  himself  in  loosening  the  armour  while  he 

speaks.] 

Pelleas 
I'll  have  no  other  servant :  bring  me  death. 

Fergus  [loosening  the  helmet] 

Death's  a  grim  army  laying  endless  siege 
Against  the  living  fortress  of  the  soul. 
Endure,  endure ;  beat  back  the  pressing  foe. 
Lift  up  again  your  shield  above  the  walls 
In  stern  defiance.     See,  I  raise  you  up. 

Pelleas  [in  Fergus'  arms] 

Leave  me,  ah,  leave  me  here.     My  broken  strength 
Is  fainter  than  a  sunset  wind,  my  mind 
Is  dry  and  empty.  —  Do  not  make  me  live. 
But  leave  me,  leave  me  here ;  Etarre  — 
I  saw  her  not,  nor  heard  her  voice,  nor  felt 
Her  anger  go  across  me  like  a  rain. 
God  knows,  such  rain  were  welcome  to  my  lips  ! 
Her  anger  is  more  sweet  than  other's  praise, 
[24] 


Her  voice  is  like  a  wind  within  the  grain, 
A  moving  swell  of  wave-like  melody. 

Fergus  [raising  Pelleas  to  his  feet] 

Her  voice  is  like  the  winter  moon  half  seen 
Across  the  other  shoulder,  magical  —  a  curse  ! 

Pelleas 

Have  you  come  hither  mocking  at  my  grief, 

To  cry  before  me  words  against  Etarre 

And  prick  my  sorrow  into  festered  rage  ? 

No,  leave  me,  leave  me :  what  avails  your  heed  ? 

I  may  not  look  upon  her  eyes  again  ! 

She  will  not  see  me,  will  not  grant  me  speech ; 

Her  wretched  knights  perform  her  word  afar. 

And  cast  me  from  her.     Oh,  world,  world. 

What  cruelty  there  lies  within  your  breast 

To  poison  all  the  milk  whereat  we  suck  ! 

We  are  the  children  of  your  hate,  conceived 

In  some  dark  moment  of  false  passion,  born 

In  anguish  of  repentance,  things  accursed 

For  whom  you  have  no  mother-love,  no  care. 

No  joy  if  we  be  happy,  no  regret 

If  we  be  clothed  in  sorrow  and  in  grief. 

Fergus 

Each  man,  if  he  be  strong,  can  take  the  world 
Within  the  grasping  hollows  of  his  hand 
And  shape  anew  the  image  of  his  will. 
There  is  no  knight  of  all  this  country  wide 

[251 


Can  sit  his  steed  unshaken  in  the  lists 

Against  your  onset,  none  that  can  maintain 

A  helm  unshorn,  and  armour  unassailed. 

What  runes  are  carven  by  an  evil  hand 

Within  the  iron  of  your  spirit  ?    Wake, 

Throw  off  the  clutch  of  sleep,  the  grasp  of  dreams. 

And  blow  the  wraith  of  magic  into  mist 

Of  idle  vapour.     Ah,  if  I  were  you. 

My  lance  should  smite  the  laughter  of  your  foes, 

My  wrath  should  strike  them  like  an  angry  sea. 

My  vengeance  scatter  them  like  autumn  leaves  ! 

Ride,  ride  against  them  !     Snap  their  strength  in 

twain  ! 
Go  like  a  curse  across  this  evil  land 
And  leave  behind  you  weeping  in  the  halls 
And  wail  of  women  seeking  'mid  the  slain 
For  their  departed  lords:    and  she,  the  shining 

snake 
That  sits  enfolded  in  your  changed  heart. 
She,  even  she,  whose  castle  holds  these  lands, 
Etarre,  the  witch  of  evil,  let  her  die 

Pelleas 

What,  is  your  service  changed  to  blackest  gall  ? 
Is  all  your  heart  tormented  like  your  speech 
With  envious  canker  ?     O  ungrateful  task 
To  lift  from  earth  the  children  of  the  dust 
And  give  the  toiling  creatures  of  the  plough 
High  freedom  in  a  servitude  of  love. 
Nay,  who  shall  give  the  oxen  of  the  field 
The  battle-steed's  high  temper,  who  shall  place 


A  soul  within  the  body  of  a  slave. 

And  waken  knighthood  stifled  in  the  serf  ? 

Fergus 
With  no  sweet  ointment  of  forgiving  love 
Will  I  anoint  the  heads  of  those  that  feed 
Their  starving  wits  on  hatred  and  foul  thoughts. 
To  ,them  that  do  you  wrong  I  bear  one  love. 
The  love  to  see  their  naked  bodies  hang 
From  windy  branches,  and  their  vulture  necks 
Engirdled  with  the  swaying,  clinging  noose. 

Pelleas 
God  grant  you  never  set  your  feet  within 
The  holy  circle  of  knighthood  !  —  Take  me  hence. 
For  I  will  wait  until  my  body's  harm 
Be  grown  to  match  my  souFs  serenity. 
The  high  security  of  my  resolve. 
Then  shall  I  find  me  other  ways  to  seek 
My  lady's  favour,  win  her  angry  heart 
To  softer  mood  of  loving. 

Fergus 

Yet  your  words 
Are  greater  than  your  strength.     How  would  you 

walk 
Through  upland  gorse  and  rough  unlevelled  way  ? 
I  cannot  bear  you  far,  tho'  I  am  fain 
My  back  should  seek  the  burden. 

Pelleas 

Search  and  say 
If  with  your  eyes  you  mark  my  loosened  steed 

[27] 


Among  the  heather  ranging ;  for  they  came 
And  bore  me  bound  thereto.     You  see  him  not  ? 
Go,  search  the  distance  with  quick  feet  and  bring 
Him  hither  straight ;  he  has  not  wandered  far. 

Fergus 

Rest  here  in  quiet  till  I  come  again 
And  wait  in  patience  for  my  sure  return. 

[He  departs.] 
[Pelleas  stands  staring  before  him  in  silence.] 

Pelleas 

I  would  I  were  as  changeless  as  the  sun 
Who  sinks  each  day  into  the  nether-mist 
And  on  the  morrow  mounts  above  the  dawn 
In  light  undimmed ;  but  I  with  shaken  soul 
Survey  the  darkness,  and  with  faltering  step 
Go  down  into  the  countries  of  the  night. 
Not  knowing  if  within  another  East 
My  eyes  shall  look  upon  the  risen  day. 
All,  all  is  dark  :  the  hell-pits  of  despair 
Gape  ever  at  my  feet.     Where  leads  the  way 
That  brings  me  to  the  daylight  of  her  eyes. 
The  dawn  which  is  her  presence,  and  the  world 
Which  is  her  body's  grace,  her  beauty's  orb 
Of  circled  wonder  ?     Barred  and  double  barred  ! 
There  is  no  oaken  shaft  can  break  this  port. 
No  twisted  hook  to  catch  the  bolt  aside. 

[Silence.] 
O  serene  sun,  alone  and  pitiless. 
How  mocking  is  the  glitter  of  thy  beams  ! 
[28] 


Meseems  thou  art  the  laughter  of  the  world 
Made  visible,  contemptuous  disdain 
Wherewith  all  nature  frames  the  race  of  man. 
O  shadow  stretched  before  me  on  the  ground. 
What  thing  art  thou,  with  what  fidelity 
Art  thou  my  steadfast  comrade  ?     Is't  thy  wish 
That  binds  thee,  or  a  dread  necessity  ? 
Art  thou  my  soul,  an  unsubstantial  thing 
Knit  to  me  while  the  sun  of  life  shall  last  ? 
The  sun's  a  mockery,  and  life  a  lure  ! 
Go  !     I  release  thee  from  thy  servitude ; 
Thou  canst  not  love  me  who  am  no  man's  friend. 
Here  in  the  world  I  stand  alone.     Go  forth. 
My  soul,  my  shadow ;  seek  a  happier  land 
And  leave  this  wretched  body  to  fulfil 
Unequal  combat  with  a  grudging  fate 
And  so  go  down  to  death,  all  purposeless. 

[He  becomes  aware  of  Gawaine  approaching.] 
What  knight  is  this  that  stands  upon  the  hill  ? 
Is  this  some  foe  to  plague  my  restless  life, 
Some  novel  torment  wrought  against  my  love  ? 
He  moves  alone,  an  armoured  knight,  afoot 
Within  these  reaches  of  untrodden  wild. 
How   came  he  here?    Why   moves  he   without 

steed 
In  painful  toil  beneath  his  armour's  press  ? 

[Gawaine  enters.] 

Gawaine 

Long  have  I  sought  you,  wayfaring  alone. 
In  visionary  speech  with  three,  I  gained 
Strange  knowledge  and  strange  biddings  to  fulfil. 

[29] 


Pelleas 
Knight,  if  on  wrathful  deed  your  steps  be  turned, 
Let  not  your  pride  so  wander  from  its  ways 
That  it  o'erstride  itself  and  seek  the  dark 
Of  high  self-confidence  and  vaunting  word. 
Fulfil  your  bidding,  add  your  little  stroke 
Of  evil  action,  yet  at  heart  know  well 
By  no  necessity  of  fallen  strength 
I  yield  my  honour  to  your  lesser  sword. 

Gawaine 
You  shall  not  find  the  hungry  bird  of  hate 
Upon  my  shield  engraven,  with  fierce  claws 
Tearing  the  world  asunder. 

Pelleas 

Are  you  not 
Of  them  that  loathe  me  at  my  lady's  will 
And  their  own  coward  hearts'  high  jealousy  ? 

Gawaine 
I  am  of  Arthur's  court.     I  come  in  need 
To  succour  knighthood,  as  our  king  enjoins 
Upon  the  glorious  order  of  his  knights. 
I  know  not  who  you  are  nor  with  what  wrong 
Pent  up  by  men's  ill-will  and  jealous  hate. 
Yet  three  there  were  who  spoke  in  visioned  speech 
And  by  their  power  on  heaven's  high  elements 
Conveyed  me  hither. 

Pelleas 
O  beloved  sound, 
The  speech  of  knighthood  in  this  wretched  land, 
[30] 


The  light  of  honour  risen  in  the  dark 

Of  shameless  men  and  unrepentant  deeds  ! 

Pelleas  I  am :  my  spear  has  held  the  prize 

In  many  tourneys  made  in  many  lands. 

Much  have  I  heard  and  loved  your  noble  king. 

The  name  of  Arthur  is  a  silver  star 

Of  truth  and  equity ;  in  faultless  strength 

The  sword  of  chivalry  gleams  there  aloft, 

A  vision  unto  men,  a  creed  for  faith. 

Gawaine 
And  I  am  Gawaine,  of  the  king's  high  court. 
Come  hither  from  the  walls  of  Camelot. 
The  fame  of  Pelleas  has  pierced  the  dark 
Of  distance,  with  the  light  of  far  renown 
For  tourney's  wreath,  and  battle's  blameless  meed. 
Our  noble  order  knows  no  nobler  knight. 
What  fateful  force  of  men  iniquitous 
Or  deed  self-willed  has  brought  you,  armed  and  lone. 
To  stand  upon  the  broom's  flower-gilded  heights 
And  gaze  across  the  stretch  of  wind  and  sun 
On  warring  wastes  where  no  man's  hand  is  set 
Compulsive  o'er  unwilling  growth  of  fields  ? 

Pelleas 
Alas,  this  tale  runs  back  among  the  years 
And  far  beyond  the  present  sight  attains 
Its  first  awakening. 

Gawaine 
Yet  would  I  hear. 
I  seek  adventure  and  I  strive  to  bring 
Knighthood's  redemption  into  creedless  lands. 

[31] 


Pelleas 

One  word  there  is,  which  shuts  and  opens  wide 

The  doors  of  all  my  deeds  and  all  my  thoughts : 

It  is  a  sign  wherewith  to  clothe  my  soul 

In  courage  linked  from  bright  security ; 

It  is  a  charmed  ring,  a  circled  rune, 

A  treasure-stone  of  wizardry  —  Etarre  ! 

Gawaine 

The  name  I  know  not,  but  am  fain  to  hear 
This  mystic  potency,  enfolded  deep 
Within  a  word's  soft-sounding  innocence. 

Pelleas 

If  you  would  hear,  and  track  the  winding  speech 
Through  courts  of  men  and  castles  set  anigh, 
I  have  no  need  to  hide  on  lying  lips 
The   truth    wherefrom    my    knighthood   gets   its 

shame. 
So  hearken  :  —  in  the  eager  days  long  since, 
I  know  not  how  far  back,  for  memory  stands 
In  helpless  failure  at  the  count  of  time 
So  wretched  and  so  slow  to  drag  away. 
Perhaps  ten  years  are  flown,  enough  to  fill 
A  stripling  youth's  advance  to  manly  state,  — 
Long  time,  long  time,  how  long  ago  it  seems  — 

Gawaine 

Nay,  well  I  know  the  adverse  wind  of  fate 
Clouds  all  the  backward  years  and  hides  the  sun 
Of  memory  in  a  grey  f orgetf ulness ; 
[32] 


The  past  becomes  a  lost  and  distant  land 
Where  once  we  moved  and  shall  not  move  again. 
But  for  your  story.  —  Speak,  and  tell  the  tale. 

Pelleas 
Magic  of  forge  and  steel  and  crucible 
Had  wrought  a  sword;    by  whose  hand,  no  one 

knew; 
'Twas  thought  the  workers  of  the  hills  had  steeped 
Their  fires  in  incantation  and  had  made 
This  sword  to  be  a  gift  to  mortal  child, 
A  king's  son  of  the  western  isles,  who  died. 
Golden  the  hilt,  alight  with  ruddy  glow ; 
Thereon  engraved,  in  token  of  its  gift, 
"The  son  of  Ork.     Be  strong  and  hold  me  fast." 
Now,  when  the  king's  son  died,  his  father  called 
A  mighty  tourney  in  the  land  and  set 
This  sword  as  guerdon  to  the  winning  arm. 
And  many  came  and  made  their  name  be  cried 
Within  the  tourney,  and  King  Arthur's  knights 
Were  gathered,  ten  or  twelve,  and  Kay  was  there 
(Him  whom  they  call  the  Seneschal),  Sir  Tor, 
And  many  others.     So  the  joust  was  made. 
Great  ladies,  queens  and  nobly  born,  beheld ; 
And  one  there  was  whose  eyes  were  like  a  fire 
Within  my  heart,  and  ever  as  I  strove 
Her  beauty  shone  about  me  like  a  star, 
And  in  mine  ears  I  heard  a  crying  voice, 
And  felt  a  throbbing  of  unmeasured  strength 
Which  of  my  body  made  its  minister 
To  triumph  in  the  tourney.     So  I  fought. 
And  over  all  prevailed. 

D  [35] 


Gawaine 

Then  are  you  grown 
A  giant  from  the  strength  of  lesser  men ; 
The  hard-wrought  prowess  of  each  vanquished 

name 
Like  hound  that  changes  master  comes  to  you 
To  aid  you  in  the  quest  for  fame,  and  swell 
The  cry  of  hunting. 

Pelleas 

In  my  hands  they  set 
The  tourney's  meed,  the  gleaming  hilt  of  gold 
That  clasped  the  flash  of  steel ;  upon  my  head 
A  golden  circlet  clung.     And  I,  forthwith. 
Rode  down  the  lists,  and  passed  with  heedless  eyes 
The  ranged  queens,  and  at  the  shining  feet 
Of  one  more  fair  than  kingly  daughter  cast 
The  golden  circle,  royal  crown  of  love 
And  adoration ;  but  with  mocking  hands 
She  flung  it  from  her,  high  above  the  heads 
Of  those  who  sat  about  her,  that  it  fell 
Within  the  dust  and  turmoil  of  the  lists. 
And  many  there  cried  out  with  jealous  speech 
And  wrought  her  shame,  until  I  made  be  known 
That  I  would  prove  her  every  act  and  word 
Against  their  gathered  spears :  thereat  they  ceased. 

Gawaine 

Strange  tale  it  is,  yet  not  too  hard  to  read. 
She  loved  a  lesser  knight  and  with  sure  strength 
Spurned  proffered  homage  of  his  vanquisher. 
[34] 


Pelleas 

Nay,  in  that  quiet  heart  of  hers  there  beats 

No  blood  of  passion.     Dark  indifference 

With  sluggish  stream  mounts  ever  in  her  veins. 

Gawaine 
What  came  of  this  ? 

Pelleas 

Into  her  rightful  land 
I  followed  her ;  and  there  I  still  abide. 
Against  the  sky  of  my  desires  and  deeds 
There  stands,  with  distant  battlements  agleam, 
The  castle  of  Etarre,  undimmed,  unchanged, 
While  over  me  the  seasons  spend  their  wrath 
And  men  work  out  their  hate ;  yet  I  prevail. 

Gawaine 
What  brought  you  here  alone  and  without  steed  ? 

Pelleas 
The  hands  of  men  across  the  thorny  wild. 

Gawaine 
In  anger,  or  by  your  own  spoken  wish  ? 

Pelleas 
In  anger  done,  yet  by  another's  will. 

Gawaine 
Why  seek  to  hide  the  need  ?     Within  a  glass 
I  saw  a  knight  whom  other  three  unbound 
[35] 


Prom  belly  of  a  steed,  and  with  rude  strength 
Dragged  far  across  the  barren  fields  of  gold. 

Pelleas 
Ah,  I  am  shamed  forever  in  your  sight 

Gawaine 

True  knighthood  never  sleeps  with  naked  shame. 
And  though  he  share  her  hovel  leaves  therein 
No  children  of  ill  fame.     Your  courage  shines 
Through  all  the  shrpuds  of  dark  ignominy. 
Pure  spirits  cannot  err. 

Pelleas 

O  noble  creed, 
That  brings  the  eye  to  witness,  not  to  judge 
Ask  what  you  will. 

Gawaine 

I  ask  your  present  need. 
And  give  you  service  of  my  sword  and  spear. 

Pelleas 

Strength  will  not  ease  the  tightened  cord  of  hate, 
'Tis  drawn  too  high  above  an  earthly  reach. 

Gawaine 

The  sword  of  courage  and  the  spear  of  truth 
May  yet  avail.     Who  were  these  wretched  three 
And  by  what  order  moved  ? 
[36] 


Pelleas 

The  self-same  word : 
It  is  a  light  for  knowledge. 

Gawaine 

Speak !    Etarre  ? 
And  is  it  she  who  brings  you  into  wrong  ? 

Pelleas 

Because  I  may  not  live  sans  sight  of  her 

I  ride  against  her  knights  in  mimic  fray 

And  sufiPer  them  to  make  me  prisoner 

That  I  may  come  before  my  lady's  eyes 

To  look  upon  her  countenance  and  hear 

The  wonder  of  her  speech.     In  wrath  alway 

She  cries  against  me  and  commands  her  knights 

To  cast  me  into  dungeon  or  to  set 

The  brand  of  shame  across  my  fallen  shield 

Gawaine 
Were  these  her  men  that  wrought  you  this  despite  ? 

Pelleas 

Her  will  through  others  moving,  cast  me  here. 
And  now  the  last  sweet  flower  of  hope  is  dead, 
Trod  under  by  her  foot.     The  autumn  grows 
And  winter  creeps  along  the  leafless  cold. 
With  mortal  fingers  plucking  branch  and  twig 
And  blowing  harsh  against  the  feeble  strength 
Which  is  the  life  of  man  and  beast  and  flower. 
My  hope  is  dead ;  I  shall  not  see  it  more. 
[37] 


Gawaine 

If  hope  through  snow  and  chill  of  winter  love 
Has  ever  blossomed  in  your  heart,  and  spread 
Its  balm  of  perfume  through  your  wounded  soul, 
'Twill   reach    its   flower  once  more  against  the 

sky 
To  catch  the  sunlight  in  its  chaliced  cup 
And  nurture  trustless  sorrow  into  confidence. 

Pelleas 

This  is  the  last ;  beyond  this  utmost  bound 

Nought  further  lies  :  love,  life,  all,  all  at  end  ! 

She  will  not  suffer  me  her  presence'  grace. 

But  strikes  me  from  afar  with  other  hands. 

To-day,  I  saw  her  not ;  her  worthless  knaves 

Fulfilled  her  final  anger,  bringing  word 

More  bitter  than  their  curses  and  their  blows. 

"O  fool,"  they  said,  "our  lady  whom  we  serve 

Bids  us  to  tell  you  that  until  she  die 

She  will  not  look  upon  your  loathed  form 

Nor   hear   your   wretched   pleading."      So   they 

spoke. 
And  dragged  me  hither  with  full  jest  and  jeer. 
Accurst  be  all  the  forces  in  me  pent 
That  out  of  shattered  body,  darkened  brain, 
Build  up  anew  the  empery  of  life. 
The  realm  which  I  must  rule,  unwilling  king 
Of  citizens  that  hold  me  prisoner 
Within  the  palace  of  my  self.     Have  end, 
O  dreadful  powers  working  in  the  dark ; 
Have  end,  and  let  me  die  ! 
[38] 


Gawaine 

Nay,  live,  and  love  ! 
Or  if  you  may  not  love,  then  hate ;  but  live  ! 
Life  is  a  present  moment,  a  shifting  point 
That  moves  from  nothing  into  nothing ;  where  it  is. 
There  is  the  world,  the  beating  pulsing  world 
With  all  its  marvel  of  a  felt  design. 
Stretch  out  your  hand  and  snare  the  fleeting  point ; 
Then  have  you  all  the  world  within  your  grasp. 
Live,  live,  and  I  will  aid  you  in  your  quest. 

Pelleas 

What  can  you  do  ?    For  many  a  month  and  year 
I  dreamed  that  love  would  waken  in  her  breast. 
A  fool,  I  dreamed  that  mortal  will  could  guide 
Love  the  immortal,  Love  the  uncompelled,  — 
From  impious  effort  gaining  due  reward. 
Sadness  of  heart,  bruised  limbs,  and  shattered  faith. 

Gawaine 

Is  there  no  gentler  word  which  I  may  speak  ? 
May  I  not  plead  before  her,  win  her  heart 
To  softer  ways  and  kindlier  moods  ? 

Pelleas 

In  vain. 

Gawaine 

May  I  not  say  she  has  misjudged,  has  scorned 
That  which  no  queen  may  purchase  with  her  crown, 
A  lover's  worship,  gift  of  gifts  ? 
[39] 


Pelleas 

In  vain. 

Gawaine     • 

Then  let  us  find  some  subtler  web  to  catch 

Her  fleeting  love  and  bring  it  to  your  lips. 

If  she  be  mortal,  she  shall  yet  be  yours ; 

If  pity  stir  within  her,  let  us  make 

A  staff  of  pity ;  if  within  her  dwell 

A  woman's  worship  of  high  deeds  and  thoughts. 

Then  let  us  make  high  thoughts  and  deeds  our 

scrip 
To  help  us  in  our  quest ;  if  fear  of  death 
Live  in  her  body,  death  shall  be  our  shoon 
Wherewith  to  walk ;  if  dreams  of  love 
E'er  stir  the  curtains  of  her  sleep,  then  love 
Shall  be  a  cloak  and  clothe  us  from  the  rain. 
Pity,  high  deeds,  and  love,  and  fear  of  death. 
Shall  be  to  us  cloak,  shoon,  and  scrip,  and  staff, 
And  from  her  we'll  get  alms. 

Pelleas 

In  vain  !  in  vain ! 
You  would  with  naked  strength  and  covered  wiles 
Beget  from  hatred  tears,  from  loathing  love. 
I  tell  you,  not  with  open  pomp  and  power 
Love  enters  in.     There  is  a  world  unseen 
Wherein  our  passions  live,  and  come  and  go 
When  no  eye  marks  them.     In  the  world  of  sense 
Our  words  and  deeds  have  puissance,  and  the  earth 
Trembles  before  our  coming ;  blown  with  pride 
We  stretch  our  sceptres  toward  that  other  world 
[40] 


And  lo,  the  wand  whereat  earth's  kingdoms  shook 
Stands  idle  in  our  hand,  a  gilded  stem. 

Gawaine 

And  yet  Etarre  shall  love  you ;  grief  and  fear 
Are  masters  of  the  soul,  and  work  their  will. 
Love  is  their  servant ;  they  but  clap  their  hands 
And  he  appears.     Give  me  your  knighthood's  trust 
And  by  my  knighthood's  faith  I  swear  to  you, 
Etarre  shall  love  you. 

Pelleas 

O  mistaken  creed  ! 
Is  love  a  hound  that  walks  within  the  leash  ? 
Too  long,  too  long  in  folly  I  maintained. 
Seeking  to  win  her  love.     Love  comes  not  thus. 
We  know  not  when  nor  wherefore,  we  have  seen 
No  shadow  fall  across  our  steps,  nor  heard 
His  mystic  footfall ;  yet  we  raise  our  eyes 
And  lo,  he  stands  before  us,  garbed  in  white. 
Triumphant,  with  a  light  upon  his  brows. 

Gawaine 

Nay,  call  him  and  he'll  come,  a  willing  slave. 
God  gave  him  unto  men,  that  men  might  be. 
Hearken  and  heed :    your  shield  and  helm  and 

sword 
Shall  change  with  mine.     So  armed,  and  with  a 

steed, 
Will  I  approach  the  castle  where  Etarre 
Holds  state  aloof. 

[41] 


Pelleas 

What  then  ?     She'll  love  me  more 
Because  you  hold  my  arms  ? 

Gawaine 

Nay,  hate  you  less. 
Death  breaks   in   twain  the  stubborn  plant   of 

wrath 
And  treads  to  earth  its  growth  and  jealous  fruit ; 
He  lays  his  finger  on  the  lips  of  hate. 
And  anger  stands  with  saddened  eyes  downcast 
Before  his  presence.     In  the  camps  of  war 
He  binds  proud  nations  with  a  chain  of  tears. 
And  with  a  mound  of  earth  builds  emperieS. 
Etarre  shall  hear  my  words  of  bitter  weal 
And   think   you    dead.     Thereat   her   brow   will 

change 
And  all  her  nature  be  suffused  with  grief ; 
Th'  unshaken  headland  of  her  wrath  shall  sink 
Within  a  sea  of  tears.     With  sudden  ray 
Illumined,  she  shall  see  life's  large  expanse 
Move  like  a  landless  ocean,  vast  and  void. 
So  will  her  heart  be  caught  with  sudden  love 
And  she  shall  hate  me,  and  against  my  name 
Cry  murderer.     Her  body's  burning  light 
Shall  languish  in  the  sable  cloth  of  grief. 
Affliction's  gloomy  cloak ;  her  cheek  shall  pale 
With  wan  reflection,  like  the  moon  that  broods 
Too  much  upon  the  splendour  of  the  sun. 
Then  will  I  cry  her  pardon  of  my  fault. 
Confess  you  living,  till  the  glad  blood  leap 
Through  all  her  veins  and  mantle  in  her  brow. 
[42] 


She  shall  give  thanks  to  Heaven's  holy  power 
That  held  you  safe ;  to  all,  she  shall  proclaim 
You  loved  and  dear ;  and  she  shall  bid  me  go 
To  seek  you  out  and  bring  you  to  her  arms. 

Pelleas 

So,  with  the  breath  of  falsehood  you  would  blow 
Love,  like  a  wooden  vane  that  points  the  wind  ? 
The  gust  of  truth  will  veer  it  straight  once  more ! 

Gawaine 

The  winds  must  change ;  the  north  must  yield  to 

south. 
The  breath  of  snow  be  melted  by  the  spring. 
And  hate  must  falter  at  undoubting  love. 
Give  me  your  shield  and  sword,  and  let  me  fare, 

Pelleas 

Shall  love's  high  course  be  furthered  by  deceit. 
Blessed  by  false  words  and  hastened  by  false  wiles. 
And  crooked  path  lead  straighter  to  the  goal  ? 

Gawaine 

Yet  paths  that  cannot  scale  a  naked  cliff 
May  find  soft  slopes  to  guide  a  sure  ascent 
On  other  sides.     What  matter  for  the  turn  ? 
Give  me  your  shield  and  sword,  and  let  me  fare. 

Pelleas 

I  will  not.     'Tis  by  other  ways  I  seek 
To  win  to  her  pure  truth  and  faultless  love. 
[43] 


Gawaine 

Are  you  a  fisher  who  with  straining  net  J 
Enmeshes  ocean  prey,  and  at  the  last 
When  silver  fishes  struggle  in  his  grasp 
Throws  back  his  booty  to  the  waiting  sea  ? 
The  years  with  eyes  of  pity  have  looked  down 
Upon  you,  and  in  restless  flight  o'erhead 
Paused  for  a  moment  with  a  prophecy 
Of  other  years  to  come. 

Pelleas 

And  now  ? 

Gawaine 

And  now 
The  time  is  here  with  open-handed  gift. 
And   you   would   spurn   it !     Oh,   how"  vain   are 

thoughts  ! 
They  have  no  more  reality  than  mist 
Which  sunlight  scatters :   'tis  the  deed  that  is. 
Three  days,  and  you  shall  lie  within  the  clasp 
Of  golden  arms  and  hear  from  burning  lips 
Love's  true  confessional,  the  marriage  night. 
Will  you  then  doubt  she  loves  you?    Will  you 

smite 
Her  mouth  and  call  her  lips  a  liar's  tool 
And  cast  her  from  you  ?     What  shall  matter  then 
The  means  whereby  we  strove  and  wrought,  and 

gained 
This  loved  reality,  this  goal  of  all  your  tlioughts  ? 
If  she  be  brought  to  love  you,  then  she  loves. 
And  on  it  there's  no  doubt. 
[44] 


Pelleas 

But  in  my  heart 
Doubt  raises  tumult  like  an  angry  sea. 

Gawaine 
A  stormless  sky  shall  lay  its  waves  at  rest. 
Etarre  shall  love  you,  by  my  word  and  truth ! 

Pelleas 

0  fond  belief,  that  wings  the  heart 
As  feathers  to  a  bird  new-born 
Wherewith  to  leave  the  nest  of  pain 
And  seek  the  lands  of  gold  ! 

Give  me  your  oath  of  knightly  faith 
That  you  are  herald  in  this  act. 
Not  wooer, 

Gawaine 

For  that  jealous  word 

1  give  you  pardon. 

[He  stretches  out  his  hands  and  touches   Pelleas' 
sword.] 

Hilt  and  bar  and  blade 
Be  record  of  my  oath ;  sunlight  and  wind 
Maintain  it ;  honour  keep  it  fast.     I  swear 
By  Arthur's  knighthood  shining  in  the  skies 
Of  false  enchantment  and  black  cowardice. 
If  I  be  found  unfaithful,  changeful,  false. 
May  my  bare  throat  feel  this  unsheathed  blade. 
May  I  be  cast  for  ever  from  the  light ! 

Pelleas 
Across  despair's  black-vaulted  firmament 
Your  words  have  moved  refulgent  Uke  a  star 
[46] 


Which  angels  hurl  from  heaven  to  guide  men's 

steps 
On  stormy  nights  through  treacherous  foul  ways. 
Words  lie  too  lightly  on  the  lips  of  man 
That  I  with  words  could  thank  you. 

[He  loosens  his  helm.] 
Take  my  helm, 
And  here  my  shield. 

Gawaine 
The  sword  —  ? 

Pelleas 

I  cannot  give. 
"Be  strong  and  hold  me  fast,"  so  runs  the  rune. 
Through  dungeon  keep,  through  false  defeat,  foul 

hands, 
And  knaves'  dark  roguery,  the  rhyme  has  wrought ; 
Unharmed  the  sword  abides.     Take  shield  and 

helm, 
Therefrom  the  tale  has  evidence  enough. 

[Fergus  appears  over  the  hill.] 
And  here  at  time's  full  flood  my  servant  comes. 
Called  by  the  present  need,  —  and  yet,  alone ; 
WTierein  our  need  is  desolate.     He  went 
To  seek  a  mount,  yet  comes  with  empty  zeal. 
[Fergus  at  sight  of  Gawaine  stops,  alarmed.    Re- 
assured by  Gawaine's  attitude  and  bearing,  he 
advances.] 

Gawaine 

Armed  and  afoot,  I  cannot  far  proceed. 
Yon  castle  on  the  deep  horizon's  rim 
[46] 


Beckons  and  nods  with  greeting  from  afar 
In  vain  civility.     Stands  nowhere  nigh 
Some  hermitage  whence  I  may  find  a  steed  ? 

Pelleas 

My  man-at-arms  knows  well  this  waste  of  land. 
He  shall  inform  us.     [To   Fergus]     So,  in  idle 

quest 
You  sought  ? 

Fergus 

Sir  Pelleas,  the  steed  I  found. 
He  waits  beyond  the  slant  of  yonder  rise. 

Pelleas 

What  mock  of  service  have  you  hid  herein  ? 
I  bade  you  lead  him  hither. 

Fergus 

How  ?  with  wings  ? 
He  cannot  mount  the  sudden  sheer  ascent ; 
But  thither  I  can  bear  you,  where  he  waits. 

Pelleas 
Then  thither  lead  Sir  Gawaine. 

Fergus 

Shall  he  ride 
And  you  remain  ? 

Gawaine 

Shall  squires-at-arms  protest 
When  knights  hold  counsel  ? 
[47] 


Fergus 

Good  sir  knight,  oft  time 
The  fool's  hid  wisdom  guides  the  king  aright. 
The  jester's  bells  sit  steadier  than  the  crown. 
I  guard  my  lord  and  master  from  deceit. 

Pelleas 

I  pray  you  pardon  him,  a  faithful  servant. 
Who  errs  too  much  in  serving  and  in  faith. 

[To  Fergus] 
Sir  Gawaine  goes  to  plead  before  Etarre, 
And  win  me  favour. 

Fergus 

Favour  in  love's  cause 
Is  not  a  ring  to  slip  on  other's  hand. 
The  pleader  pleads  but  for  himself. 

Gawaine 

O  vile, 
O  base  earth-born,  were  you  my  serving  man 
Red   stripes   should   leap   across   your   quivering 

back; 
The   dogs   should   laugh   at   you   and   loll   their 

tongues 
To  see  you  lower  fallen  than  themselves  ! 

Pelleas 

Sir  Gawaine,  pardon.     Much  adversity, 
On  me  descended,  has  made  dark  his  mind. 
He  probes  forever  in  suspicious  depths, 
[48] 


And  where  he  thinks  to  find  an  enemy. 
His  very  soul  drips  poison  and  his  words 
Are  but  the  distillations  of  his  thoughts. 
The  gathered  fumes  and  acids  of  his  brain. 
He  shall  repent  and  serve  you  loyally. 

Gawaine 

Then  let  me  go  forthwith  and  seek  the  steed, 

And  so  depart.     My  helm  and  shield  I  leave 

In  pledged  exchange.     When  twice  the  sun  has  set 

And  twice  arisen,  messenger  shall  come 

And  bid  you  to  the  castle  of  Etarre. 

Till  then,  farewell. 

Pelleas 

God  speed  the  ventured  aim. 

Fergus 

And  you,  O  master,  what  of  you  alone. 
Wearied  and  hungered  on  the  shadeless  hills  ? 

Pelleas 

Go  seek  for  me  from  distant  hermitage 
Another  steed.     By  sun-down  be  returned 
And  bear  me  hence  at  last. 

Gawaine 

b 

Farewell. 

Pelleas 

Farewell. 
[Fergus  and  Gawaine  depart.] 
■  [49] 


Pelleas 

[alone,  watching  the  two  move  across  the  brow  of 

the  hill] 
So  fare,  my  heart's  adventure,  so  fare  well. 

CURTAIN 


[50] 


ACT  TWO 

SCENE:  A  room  in  the  Castle  of  Etarre. 
Tapestries  upon  the  walls.  The  late  afternoon 
sun  streams  in  through  a  solitary  window.  Its 
shaft  of  light  falls  full  upon  Etarre,  who  sits 
before  a  loom  set  in  a  recess.  She  is  working 
at  a  tapestry,  now  nearly  finished,  A  maid, 
AiLEEN,  attends  her. 

Etarre 

And  one  more  colour  to  enrich  his  crest. 
Shall  it  be  scarlet  ? 

AlLEEN 

Would  not  blue  lie  well  ? 

Etarre 

It  shall  be  scarlet.     He  shall  flash  and  burn 
Like  dew  sun-kindled  with  a  thousand  sheens. 
Where  hangs  the  scarlet  thread  ? 

AlLEEN 

Here  at  the  wing 
From  this  last  dripping  stain. 
[51] 


Etarre 

The  sun  a-mist 
On  autumn  afternoons  so  stains  the  world ; 
A  noble  colour  for  a  crested  plume. 

AlLEEN 

Yet  blue  were  softer. 

Etarre 

You  are  bitten  deep 
With  this  sea-madness ;  in  your  own  blue  eyes 
Nought's  fair  that  is  not  blue. 

AlLEEN 

The  world's  a-drip 
With  red  and  crimson,  or  you  like  it  not. 

Etarre 

But,  look  you,  I  have  reason  in  my  choice, 

For  red's  the  fairer  colour.     There  is  nought  so 

brave 
As  scarlet  banners  or  a  crimson  sky. 

AlLEEN 

For  them  that  like  it.     But  the  blue  of  streams 
On  summer  afternoons  'neath  summer  skies 
Gladdens  my  heart  with  deep  and  pure  content. 

Etarre 

And  one  lone  spray  of  hooded  red  in  flower 
Cries  louder  than  the  murmur  of  your  streams, 
[52] 


The  quiet  of  your  skies.     They  are  fancy-poor 
Who  love  not  red. 

AlLEEN 

And  false  of  heart 
Who  love  not  blue. 

[Sings.] 
Love  came  to  me  in  kirtle  red, 
(Honour's  false  and  Faith  is  dead) ; 
Came  again  in  kirtle  blue 
(Honour's  fair  and  Faith  is  true). 

Etarre 

You're  quick  in  mocking  me  with  children's  rhyme. 
Make  me  a  rhyme  to  mock  this  rainbow  bird 
Whose  crest  is  finished.     How  he  sweeps  and  flies  ! 
Come,  I'll  begin  it. 

[Sings.] 
On  the  wind  there  flies  a  bird ; 
He  is  come  from  distant  shores. 
From  the  dawn's  unopened  doors 
To  the  western  gates  unstirred. 
In  his  winged  flight  there  run 
Colours  of  the  setting  sun. 

Do  you  end  the  song. 

AiLEEN  [singing] 

Eyes  and  lips  and  sweet  desires 
Are  but  feathers  for  his  wings. 
Burning  love  the  song  he  sings ; 

All  thy  hope  and  thought  are  fires 
Giving  light  unto  his  eyes ; 
[531 


Life  and  youth, 

Beauty,  truth, 
Are  the  strength  wherewith  he  flies. 
Snowy  breast  and  golden  hair 
Are  but  plumes  for  him  to  wear. 
He  shall  sing  a  summer's  day, 
Clap  his  wings,  away,  away. 

Etarre 

111  caught.    You've  made  your  bird  too  like  to 

Time, 
The  raven  dark  who  speeds  across  the  world. 
And  dressed  him  in  fine  colours  like  a  daw 
Which  steals  strange  ornament. 

AiLEEN  [singdng] 

Silken  raiment  wherein  dressed 
Beauty  shimmers  half  divine. 
Glint  of  jewels,  rare  and  fine. 

Are  but  colours  for  his  crest. 

Crimson  colours  for  his  wings ; 

Hark  !  'tis  love  whereof  he  sings  ! 
Brave  and  gay,  a  summer's  day. 
Ere  he  flies  away,  away. 

Etarre 

I  like  it  not. 
It  troubles  me  with  some  half -dreamed  lament. 
An  unknown  broken  promise,  I  know  not 
To  whom,  nor  for  what  purpose,  made.     Poor  bird 
Here  woven  on  the  loom,  thou  art  maligned  ! 
Thou  art  pure  fancy  of  mine  inmost  dreams, 
[54] 


Not  touched  with  these  gross  images  of  earth. 

Thy  colours  are  imperishable  light 

Caught  from  the  steadfast  sun  and  held  secure. 

Thou'lt  never  fly  away,  but  here  remain 

To  be  mine  eye's  interpreter  of  joy, 

To  hang  upon  my  castle  walls,  and  sing 

Thy  crimson  colours  in  sheer  ecstasy. 

AlLEEN 

Ay,  let  him  live  in  silken  thread  and  woof ; 
There  is  a  bird  which  flies  from  mortal  grasp. 
Most  fair  he  is,  to  perch  upon  our  wrist 
With  flashing  colours,  and  from  sunlit  throat 
Pour  forth  his  flooding  heart's  high  melodies. 
In  every  word  you  speak,  he  trills  and  sings ; 
In  every  motion  of  your  hand,  he  moves 
With  wings  aflutter ;  in  your  brightening  eyes 
He  lives  triumphant :  oh,  beware,  beware ; 
Too  soon  he's  gone,  and  in  the  dusk  and  chill 
No  nightingale  shall  waken  into  song. 

Etarre 

What  mean  you?    Life  and  Youth  and  Happi- 
ness? 
I  have  them  in  sweet  surfeit. 


AlLEEN 


And  of  love  ? 


Etarre 

How  many  times  did  I  forbid  his  name 
And  cast  him  from  my  highest  battlement  ? 
[66] 


With  subtle  track  you  turn  upon  my  words 
And  lead  me  toward  that  monstrous  loathing,  hid 
In  all  your  thoughts.     Shall  I  not  be  content 
With  golden  solitude,  that  I  must  bind 
Love's  naked  body  to  my  car  of  dreams  ? 

AlLEEN 

A  maiden's  eyes,  a  maiden's  wise. 
The  open  gates  of  paradise. 

Etarre 

What  mask  of  rhyme  holds  revel  in  your  brain 
That  you  make  mock  of  me  ? 

AlLEEN 

A  loveless  fate,  and  Eden's  gate 

Is  barred  with  double  sword  of  hate. 

Etarre 

Have  done  !  have  done  ! 

AlLEEN 

Flame  that  bums  not,  stream  that  flows  not, 
Maid  that  loves  not,  Eden  knows  not. 

Etarre 

This  is  an  old  wives'  song,  a  ragged  cloth 
With  halting  stitches  sewn  in  knotted  thread. 
And  you  would  clothe  me  with  it  like  a  queen  ! 
I  am  content  with  life ;  you'd  stir  the  stream 
To  waters  turbid  as  the  floods  in  spring. 
[56] 


AlLEEN 

I  pray  for  love's  awakening,  to  end 
This  dream  that  hides  its  own  poor  solitude 
In  deep  illusion  of  a  soulless  life. 
My  heart  can  do  no  more. 

Etarre 

Not  more,  yet  less. 
And  cease  to  weary  me  with  hopes  and  tears. 
Your  tongue  moves  ever  in  the  wells  of  speech 
Drawing  new  wonders  to  the  light  of  day ; 
And  chief  there-mid  the  curling  snake  of  love 
Winds  envious  through   all   your   words.     Have 

done. 

[Maris  enters.] 

AlLEEN 

And  here  comes  one  to  guide  you  in  your  ways. 
To  steep  your  heart  in  cold  indifference. 
And  marble  every  living  pulse  and  vein. 

Maris 

I  pray  you,  give  me  moment's  grace,  to  cross 
Your  silken  fancy  with  rough  thread  of  care. 
I  have  been  troubled  with  much  thought  of  late ; 
Our  silent  halls  have  heard  my  pacing  step 
And  stared  in  dark  displeasure,  matching  frown 
Of  sullen  stone  to  sullen  brow  of  thought. 

Etarre 

Has  Care  thrown  nets  within  my  castle-yard 
Or  brought  us  siege  ?    We'll  catch  him  prisoner 
[57] 


And  show  him  forth.     Speak  on,   lay  bare  his 

haunt ; 
Pull  down  his  hiding  place  and  hale  him  out. 

Maris 

Your  eyes  have  seen  him,  many  a  day  that's  past. 
He  will  not  be  gainsayed,  but  comes  again 
With  unstilled  clamour  to  our  quiet  walls. 
He  carries  armour  like  a  knight,  has  shield, 
A  spear,  a  sword,  yet  will  no  battle  bear ; 
We  drag  him  out  and  cast  him  to  the  wilds, 
Where  nature  tends  him  with  her  healing  dew 
And  dries  him  with  the  sunshine  and  the  wind. 

Etarre 
Pelleas. 

Maris 

The  orbed  and  golden  fire  of  day 
With  no  more  steadfast  pace  in  heaven's  track 
Returns  to  us :  yet  one  gives  light  and  warmth. 
The  other  is  a  flame  within  our  fields 
That  must  be  quenched. 

AlLEEN 

Flame  quenches  flame,  but  sword 
Can  cut  it  not. 

Maris 

Here's  parable  enough 
To  quench  the  very  sun  in  ignorance 
And  cloud  the  light  of  reason  in  our  brains. 
[58] 


Etarre 

Her  idle  speech  yields  up  its  idle  tale : 

To  all  her  riddles  waits  a  single  key, 

A  key  which  I  have  dropped  in  blackest  moat. 

Maris 

You've  carved  a  rune  to  clear  a  parable. 

Your  words  are  like  a  flight  of  winged  birds 

Crossing  from  sea  to  sea  above  my  head ; 

I  watch  them  pass,  yet  know  not  where  they  go. 

But  as  for  Pelleas,  we'll  speak  of  him ; 

He  has  a  malady  which  eats  his  life 

Like  rain  upon  a  sword-blade,  turning  steel 

From  flash  and  splendour  into  edgeless  rust ; 

Deeper  and  deeper  sinks  the  water-drop 

Till  all's  corroded  and  the  biting  teeth 

Of  slow  destruction  meet  from  either  side. 

And  such  a  sword  is  worthless  unto  men. 

Fit  for  quick  burial.     In  short  word  and  brief. 

For  Pelleas  I  come,  to  counsel  death. 

Etarre 
You'd  have  me  slay  him  ! 

AlLEEN 

Overstepped  indeed ! 
He  runs  with  too  great  fury. 

Etarre 

Shall  my  name 
Be  joined  with  murder's  most  ignoble  rout 
And  brought  to  silence  ? 

[591 


Maris 

Not  in  cruelty 
I  come.     There  are  some  souls  so  weighed  with  life, 
So  deep  in  sorrow,  so  oppressed  with  ill. 
That  death  comes  like  a  prison-keeper  kind 
To  strike  away  the  chains  of  their  captivity. 
The  holy  Church's  covenant  of  hell  and  heaven 
Is  but  a  prophecy  of  that  unmeasured  dark 
Wherein  the  dead  find  sustenance  and  life ; 
And  men  in  their  last  hour  come  down  unto  the 

strand 
With  all  earth's  hills  behind  them,  and  the  level 

sea 
Ready  for  new  emprise  unknown  and  unexplored. 
Death  is  the  hand  that  sends  them  from  the  shore. 
And  death  the  wind  that  swells  within  their  sails. 
And  unto  them  that  walk  with  leaden  eyes 
Viewless  and  vacant  as  the  staring  blind 
Through  life's  harsh  country,  weary  and  despaired. 
To  them,  you  call  it  cruelty  and  hate 
To  give  them  vision  of  th'  eternal  sea 
Which  leads  into  th'  unknown  ?     Oh,  be  assured 
That  Mercy,  queen  of  heaven,  with  backward  grasp 
Beneath  her  grey-starred  gown  holds  fast  a  sword. 
And  unto  some  poor  souls,  in  gift  of  gifts. 
Brings  not  fine  balsam,  but  the  edge  of  death. 

Etarre 

What  charge  is  this ;  am  I  then  merciful  ? 
Did  mercy  move  me  through  the  days  and  weeks 
Of  his  imprisonment,  when  he  was  cast 
[60] 


To  sleep  among  the  nettled  dungeon-holds 
And  pray  for  sunbeams  in  a  lightless  pit  ? 
Did  mercy  move  me  when  with  jest  and  jeer 
You  dragged  him  in  the  dust  of  horses'  hoofs 
Or  cast  him  in  the  sight  of  beast  and  bird 
To  be  their  mockery  ?     Freedom  I  sought. 
Slaves  can  be  cruel,  and  I  was  worse  than  slave. 
Tormented  with  the  thought  that  I  was  strong 
And  he  was  weak,  yet  he  with  all  his  cries 
Made  day  a  nightmare,  and  within  my  breast 
Dried  up  the  wells  of  pity.     Idle  hope 
That  I  should  turn  against  myself,  and  walk 
On  paths  of  mercy  ! 

Maris 
Slay  him  and  be  free. 

Etarre 

Slay  him,  and  hear  the  owl  at  nightfall  cry. 
And    watch    the    rooks,    wind-blown    above    the 

towers. 
Circle  and  caw,  while  all  with  self-same  voice 
Say  "Murderer?"     Slay  him,  and  think  the  dew 
Is  bom  of  lamentation,  and  the  wind 
Is  come  on  wings  funereal  and  wild 
To  scream  for  vengeance  from  the  fiends  of  hell  ? 
Slay  him,  you  say,  and  watch  the  lips  of  men 
Curdle  against  me,  till  my  frenzied  hands 
Are  clapped  above  mine  ears  to  hide  the  sound 
Of  spoken  evil  ?     O  unhappy,  I, 
Laden  with  unpremeditated  wrong 
Which  will  not  alter.     Oh,  unhappy  grief  ! 
[61] 


AlLEEN 

How  changed  is  your  contentment,  torn  aside 
To  bare  the  inner  sorrow  of  unrest. 
Oh,  leave  these  false  pursuings ;  be  at  ease 
With  woven  pictures  and  imagined  scenes 
And  make  not  real  the  dreams  of  tragedy. 

Etarre 

Dreams,  dreams,  false  shadows,  phantom  thoughts, 

How  I  am  wearied  of  their  flapping  wings 

Across  the  twilight  of  imagined  worlds  ! 

There  is  a  change  within  me  of  new  hours 

And  other  suns ;  I  could  be  kind  or  cruel 

With  unsuspected  tenderness  and  hate. 

There's   something   born   within   me,   great   and 

strange, 
A  child  of  impulse,  wakened  in  my  veins. 
I'll  have  no  more  of  dreams ;  come  take  this  loom 
And  set  it  forth  to  other  hands.     And  now 
We'll  hearken.  Maris,  to  your  deathly  plaint. 

AlLEEN 

I  wish  you  were  not  wrought  of  changeful  mood. 
But  late,  you  spoke  of  solitude's  content 
And  wove  yourself  a  golden  web  of  dreams. 
And  now  you've  torn  it  like  a  tangled  fly 
Within  a  spider's  mesh  that's  spun  too  weak. 

Etarre 

Too  weak  it  was ;  I've  torn  it  with  a  word. 

[62] 


AlLEEN 

And  with  a  word  rebuilt  it  many  a  time. 

Etakre 
The  spider's  dead ;  he'll  weave  no  more.     And  now 
We'll  listen.  Maris,  to  your  plea  of  hate. 

Maris 

'Tis  not  in  hate  I  urge  it.    Well  you  know 
I  bear  no  hate  to  mightier  knights  than  I. 

Etarre 

And  well  you  know  I  loathe  your  Pelleas 
And  turn  all  praise  of  him  to  darker  speech. 

Maris 

Still  darker  speech  has  gone  abroad,  to  stain 
The  honour  of  Etarre  and  all  her  knights. 
There  is  a  tale  now  told  in  other  halls. 
And  false  it  rings,  and  yet,  alas,  is  true. 
It  tells  of  one  lone  knight  who  puts  to  scorn 
Dungeon  and  steel,  a  foe  who  will  not  fight 
Yet  always  conquers.     Men  speak  hard  of  you 
And  call  you  vampire,  sucking  might  and  power 
From  lovelorn  men.     If  this  continues  on, 
Before  the  year's  end  Camelot  will  hear. 
For  Arthur's  knights  ride  fast  through  all  this 

land. 
If  you  would  keep  untarnished  light  of  fame, 
This  Pelleas  must  vanish  from  the  land. 
And  mouths  of  men  gape  empty  of  ill  words. 
[63] 


Etarre 
And  if  they  know  I  slew  him  ? 

Maris 

Not  by  guile ; 
By  open  battle  in  the  sight  of  men. 

Etarre 

And  who  is  there  in  all  this  land  of  mine 
To  battle  with  Sir  Pelleas  ? 

Maris 

Even  I. 
For  he  is  fallen  from  his  ancient  strength 
Till  I  and  he  are  grown  one  force  in  arms. 

Etarre 
And  if  he  slay  you  ? 

Maris 

Then  my  cause  is  lost ; 
I  bear  the  sorrow. 

Etarre 
K  he  will  not  fight  ? 

Maris 
We'll  give  him  open  choice  to  fight  or  die 
And  love  of  you  will  guide  him  in  his  choice. 

Etarre 

And  then  he'd  slay  you  !     I  have  seen  his  spear 
Go  down  the  Hsts  and  ravish  charging  steeds 
164J 


Of  their  proud  burden.     I  have  seen  his  sword 
Shear  crest  and  helm,  and  leap  through  buckled 

steel. 
He'd  slay  you,  slay  you,  and  with  eager  cry 
Come  throw  himself  before  me,  plead  for  love. 
No ;  other  ways  there  are  wherein  men  die, 
And  I,  the  vampire  of  the  strength  of  men, 
Shall  know  a  better  counsel. 

[A  horn  is  heard.] 
Hark,  a  horn ! 
Go  bring  me  news.     Return  with  every  speed. 

[Maris  goes  out.] 
Look  from  the  window ;  is  there  aught  to  see  ? 

AlLEEN 

The  sinking  light  of  day  on  field  and  moor, 
A  flight  of  birds,  the  moving  heads  of  grain. 
The  leaves  ashiver  on  the  trees ;  nought  else. 

Etarre 
What  meant  that  horn  ?     Is  Pelleas  returned 
And  have  my  knights  brought  me  but  empty  words. 
Boasting  completion  of  the  unfulfilled  ? 

AlLEEN 

It  cannot  be.     Some  other  danger  calls ; 
For  Pelleas  is  cast  upon  the  hills 
And  comes  not  riding  with  imperious  haste 
Of  new  adventure. 

Etarre 

Year  and  threefold  year 
Unvisited  of  danger,  I  have  held 

w  [65] 


Communion  with  the  change  of  day  and  night ; 
Wrapped  in  the  quiet  of  a  warless  land 
I  have  forgotten  ravaging  and  death, 
As  one  who  inland  dwelling  on  the  hills 
Forgets  the  loud-tongued  clamour  of  the  sea 
And  thinks  to  measure  fierceness  of  all  storms 
By  that  weak  wind  that  plays  upon  the  moor, 
Forgetting  all  the  wrack  and  thund'rous  surge 
Which  sweeps  to  ruin :  on  a  sudden  day 
He  comes  unto  the  cliffs  and  hears  the  sea. 
The  menace  of  the  waters  holding  guard 
Before  the  portals  of  the  earth.     So  I. 
And  here  is  war  with  brazen  throat  and  strong 
Come  crying  at  my  door,  and  I  have  slept. 

AlLEEN 

Here  is  no  tramping  of  the  hoofs  of  war ; 

Some  messenger  on  peaceful  journey  bent 

Craves  food  and  shelter,  giving  in  return 

The  last  hot  news  of  joust  at  Camelot 

And  feast  of  Arthur's  knights,  the  noble  tales 

Of  battle  unto  giant  and  to  dwarf 

In  magic  wood  and  isle  snake-habited ; 

Fen-dwelling  sorcerers  and  craggy  fiends ; 

The  last  sad  word  of  knights  no  more  returned ; 

Court-news  and  scandal,  like  a  spider's  thread 

That  waves  in  th*  wind,  seeking  whereon  to  build. 

Etarre 

Whate'er  it  be,  my  warders  stand  at  guard 
In  quick  restraint  lest  any  enter  in, 
[66] 


And  unexpected  come,  and  unannounced. 
Where's  Maris  that  he  waits  so  long  ?  , 
[Gawaine  enters,  miih  helm  and  shield  of  Pelleas. 
The  visor  is  dovm.] 

Who's  here  ? 
Pelleas  ?     Quick,  help  me  !     call  for  Maris  !  help  ! 
Help,  Balarin  and  Avran,  Erse,  and  Dane  ! 
Is  no  one  here  to  help  me,  none  to  come  ? 
O  treachery  outdark'ning  all  belief  ! 
What !  none,  not  one, — one  man  to  bring  me  help  ? 

AlLEEN 

He  dare  not  so  assail  you  !     If  he  come, 

I'll  cast  myself  against  him,  break  his  path, 

And  hamper  him  till  you  be  fled. 

[Gawaine  stands  unmoved,  leaning  upon  his  shield.] 

Etarre 

What !  still  ? 
No  motion,  no  advance  to  pluck  me  hence  ? 
You're  harrier  and  I  the  song-bird  caught. 
And  you  leave  sheathed  your  claws  ?     What,  great 

of  heart. 
You  dare  so  come,  and  offer  me,  not  death,  — 
No  !  that's  too  little  for  your  hungry  soul !  — 
But  kindness  and  a  sword  that  holds  its  sheath  ? 
You  dare  so  stand  before  me,  raise  no  hand 
To  bring  me  hurt  ?     You  dare  humility  ? 
O  impudence  that  mocks  my  woman's  strength 
And  spurns  all  vengeance,  every  stroke  of  sword  ! 
You've  slain  my  knights  or  caught  them  with  some 

trick, 

[67] 


You've  made  me  here  defenceless  to  your  might. 
And  now  you  stand  before  me  dumb  and  still 
And  speak  no  word  and  raise  no  awful  hand. 

AlLEEN 

Shall  I  bring  aid,  go  search  the  battlements. 
Call  every  serf  from  labour,  strip  the  fields  ? 
He  will  not  dare  assail  you. 

Etarre 

Here  abide. 
I  need  not  man's  assistance ;  woman's  will 
And  woman's  word  borrow  an  unknown  strength 
When  wrong's  at  issue.     Here,  in  last  defence. 
You  stand  on  trial,  plead  a  mortal  cause 
Before  an  unrelenting  judge.     Have  care 
Of  every  moving  word  and  springing  phrase 
Lest  they  o'ertip  the  balance  with  false  weight. 
Much  have  I  found  of  blame  and  heavy  fault : 
A  restless  spirit  walking  in  the  night. 
His  mantle  blown  by  gust  of  unseen  winds 
Across  the  darkness  toward  the  home  of  storms 
Where  stars  and  sun  are  hidden ;  so  he  moves, 
W^ild-eyed  with  some  new  vision  drawn  aghast ; 
And  this  is  he  who  makes  my  life  a  curse, 
Pelleas,  the  knight ;  for  him  make  your  defence  ! 
What !  not  an  outburst  of  an  injured  love  ? 
Are  not  those  furnaces  of  passion  stirred 
That  shone  so  ruddy  in  the  dark  of  hate. 
That  burned  upon  the  hill-tops  of  abuse 
Like  beacon  fires,  those  furnaces  of  love 
[68] 


That  once  consumed  your  soul  to  ashen  drift 
And  made  you  like  a  coal  that's  burnt  to  th'  end  ? 
What !  not  a  word  ?  no,  not  a  single  word  ? 
Is  all  your  life's  endeavour  stricken  dumb  ? 
Then  hark ;  for  them  that  will  not  plead  their  cause 
Judgement  is  given.     You  have  sinned  too  much 
To  keep  the  water's  surface ;  lead,  and  more  than 

lead, 
Drags  at  your  body,  and  the  stream's  quick  flood 
Closes  above  you,  who  are  judged  and  damned. 
A  thousand  ways  you've  found  in  your  offence : 
Your  shadow  has  been  dark  on  all  my  paths, 
A  fiery  shadow  burning  grass  and  herb. 
You've  eaten  out  the  petals  of  my  life 
And  strewn  my  happiness  like  withered  leaves 
On  autumn  walks ;  you've  been  the  wind  and  rain 
To  hold  me  prisoner  beneath  my  roof 
Longing  in  vain  for  sunlight  and  clear  skies. 
You've  sinned  too  much  against  me,  you  have 

moved 
A  hundred  feet  beneath  my  castle  walls 
And  with  huge  shoulders  shaken  keep  and  tower ; 
You've  caught  the  lightning  on  the  barren  wild 
And  driven  it  against  me  like  a  hound ; 
For  like  the  stroke  of  earthquake  underground 
Or  bolt  of  errant  flame  across  the  night, 
So  have  you  shaken  me  and  burned  my  sight. 
So  have  you  cast  my  life  in  monstrous  ruin 
And  blackened  all  the  walls  of  strength  and  love. 
For  this  you  have  no  penitence,  no  grief, 
But  are  returned  like  hawk  upon  his  flight 
To  seek  anew  the  victim  you  have  struck ; 
[69] 


But  I  am  changed  to  poison-throated  snake 
With  deadly  venom  poised  upon  my  tongue 
And  all  my  body  tense  in  gathered  coil ; 
No  harmless  serpent  of  the  fens  am  I, 
But  an  undreamed  and  deadly  throat  of  pain ; 
I  call  you  to  that  sombre  house  of  rest 
Wherein  all  men  must  while  eternally. 
I  have  been  bitter ;  drunken  deep  in  words 
I  have  assailed  you ;  now  I  speak  no  more. 
Prepare  you  for  your  death.     I  seek  my  knights. 
[Gawaine  raises  the  bar  of  his  helmet,    Etarre 
starts  aghast] 

Gawaine 

There  is  no  need.    I  am  not  Pelleas. 

Etarre 

What  knight  are  you  ?    Oh  speak,  how  came  you 

here  ? 
W^hat  dark  intent  of  silence  led  you  in  ? 
What  will  you  of  me  ?    Are  you  rapine's  hand 
Or  stroke  of  vengeance,  war's  untimely  sword. 
Some  miracle  of  quick  disaster  sprung 
From  seed  unplanted  ?     Speak  ! 

Gawaine 

Gawaine  am  I, 
Knight  of  King  Arthur's  Court,  of  royal  kith. 
Deception's  mask  no  guiltier  purpose  hides 
Than  from  your  love  and  anger  to  extort 
A  knowledge  in  each  mood  of  praise  or  blame 
And  learn  if  I  win  favour  for  my  deed. 
[70] 


Etarre 
What  deed  ?     You've  slain  my  knights  ? 

Gawaine 

They  are  unharmed. 

Etarre 

Are  they  not  stricken  and  not  captive  bound  ? 
Do  men-at-arms  still  hold  their  watch  and  guard  ? 
How  came  you  here  ?     Were  all  my  servants  false  ? 

Gawaine 

Smooth  words  and  promise  of  high  recompense, 
An  oath  of  loyalty  unto  your  cause, 
A  servitor  of  yours  that  knew  my  face 
In  other  days  and  other  lands  —  no  more ; 
These  were  enough  to  gain  my  entrance  here. 
Your  servants  sought  to  serve  you  as  they  could. 
Thinking  to  win  new  favour  through  my  aid. 
Deal  not  too  harshly  with  them,  but  on  me 
Turn  all  the  passion  of  your  fit  rebuke. 

Etarre 

I  have  no  heart  to  chide  a  noble  knight 
Well  known  in  Caerleon's  court.     But  answer  me, 
This  shield  so  quartered,  see,  I  know  it  well. 
Yon  helm  with  the  green  plume  half  caught  aside, 
These  are  of  Pelleas. 

Gawaine 

From  him  I  took  them. 
[71] 


Etarre 
You've  slain  him  or  but  made  him  prisoner  ? 

Gawaine 
Not  made  him  prisoner. 

Etarre . 

Then  slain  ? 

Gawaine 

Yea,  slain. 
In  battle  smitten  to  the  final  breath. 

Etarre 

Dead,  Pelleas  !    Now  let  the  hooded  sun 
Break  forth  in  splendour,  let  the  golden  moors 
Proclaim  thanksgiving  from  a  thousand  flowers  ! 
Oh,  I  am  as  the  earth,  with  winter  bowed. 
Who  sudden  feels  the  weight  of  snow  and  frost 
With  one  great  stroke  from  his  twain  shoulders 

cast. 
And  leaps  unto  his  feet,  and  calls  for  Spring. 
For  I  had  taken  resolution  dread. 
And  death  was  all  about  me,  lithe  and  dark. 
To  haunt  my  footsteps  and  in  silent  halls 
Afflict  my  purpose  with  the  nightmare  forms 
Which  Horror  views  with  shuddering  lidless  eyes 
Or  with  fixed  stare  pursues.     Join  exultation 
And  be  aroused  to  song,  my  silent  heart ; 
We  are  of  much  relieved,  our  troubled  days 
That  were  as  night's  dark  pall  of  mist  and  cloud, 
[72] 


Are  turned  to  smoke  upcurling  in  the  sun. 
And  vanish  in  the  clear  expanse  of  Hght. 

Gawaine 

Have  you  no  pity,  are  you  carved  of  stone  ? 

This  is  unholy  so  to  cry  and  sing. 

To  whet  rejoicing  on  the  steel  of  death. 

Etarre 

Is  it  unholy  for  the  wanderer 
Through  night's  black  pitfalls  and  most  secret  lures 
To  hail  the  sunrise  with  a  joyful  song. 
Knowing  he  walks  securely  on  his  way  ? 

Gawaine 
I  could  not  slay  a  man;with  such  wild  heart ! 

Etarre 

It  is  not  I  who  slew  him  !     Oh,  be  glad. 
Look  you,  I  am  most  merciful  and  kind ; 
You  know  not  all  my  history  of  grief, 
You  know  not  how  he  came  across  my  Hfe, 
Black  thread  within  the  weaving  of  my  joys  ! 

Gawaine 
Noble  he  was,  and  glorious  in  strength. 

Etarre 

Whereof  I  had  much  cause  of  bitterness. 
We  thrust  the  dwarf  aside,  spurn  him  the  path ; 
[73] 


The  giant  brings  us  terror  in  our  knees. 

Oh,  had  he  not  so  noble  been,  so  strong. 

So  burning  on  the  lips  of  man  and  maid, 

So  high  redoubted  in  all  mighty  arms, 

I  would  have  pitied  him,  not  hated  to  the  last. 

Gawaine 

Have  you  no  sorrow  now,  that  he  is  dead ; 
Have  you  no  word  of  praise  ? 

Etarre 

Oh,  ask  me  not ; 
But  unto  you  who  brought  me  into  peace. 
All  gratefulness  of  heart,  all  kindly  words. 
Be  welcome  to  our  halls,  and  bide  with  us. 

AlLEEN 

Shall  I  prepare  a  chamber  for  our  guest  ? 

Etarre 
With  every  speed.    Let  Avran  know  of  this. 

Gawaine 

I  cannot  here  abide.     My  journey  calls. 
I  was  on  idle  mission  sent  and  vain. 
I  must  go  hence  again  in  haste. 

[Aileen,  at  a  sign  from  Etarre,  goes  out] 

Etarre 

Oh,  stay ! 
It  is  unkindness  to  defeat  all  thanks 
[74] 


And  set  true  praise  at  loss ;  you  render  base 
Her  whom  your  kindness  most  has  cherished. 
Most  nurtured  into  grateful  ways.     You  spurn 
The  springing  blade  of  recompense,  and  flee 
Before  its  growth  has  quickened  into  leaf. 

Gawaine 
A  truer  deed,  that  is  not  done  for  gain. 

Etarre 

Those  purposes  were  never  truly  sown 

Which  no  man  bides  to  reap ;  but  like  the  wind 

You've  scattered  bounty  with  a  careless  strength 

And  run  abroad  intent  on  other  joys. 

The  harvest  threshers  mock  with  plundered  chaff 

The  wind  that  sowed  and  knew  not  how  to  reap ; 

Be  more  advised  and  with  more  human  grace 

Glean  recompense  and  store  the  golden  grain.  ^ 

Gawaine 

With  how  persuasive  touch  you  lull  asleep 
The  serpent-heads  of  honour.     'Tis  too  late. 
For  they  have  set  their  fangs  within  me  deep. 
And  I  must  go. 

Etarre 

For  honour  ?     Is  it  honour 
To  trample  welcome  underfoot,  and  turn 
With  angry  frown  from  greeting  to  farewell  ? 
Does  honour  quarrel  with  hospitality 
And  virtue  with  all  kindness  ? 
[75] 


Gawaine 

Ask  my  Wish 
And  learn  it  does  not  with  my  Will  accord ; 
Prove  Inclination,  and  'twill  here  abide, 
But  speak  to  Duty,  Knighthood,  Self-resolve, 
And  they  will  cry  "To  horse  !"  and  ride  away. 

Etarre 

Is  it  Ill-will  that  plucks  you  by  the  sleeve, 
A  servant  in  high  banquet  come  to  call 
His  master  forth  on  other  needs  ? 

Gawaine 

Ah,  no ; 
For  admiration  pours  me  heavy  wine 
Of  looks  and  words  persuasive  to  the  sense. 
I  pray  your  pardon  if  I  seem  unkind : 
There  is  a  vow  which  bids  me  hence. 

Etarre 

A  vow? 
Of  fasting  and  of  shelterless  advance 
Through  rainy  ways  and  dripping  nights  a-cold  ? 

Gawaine 

A  vow  most  recent  to  impatient  lips, 
To  further  love's  advantage. 

Etarre 

Then  remain ; 
Tell  me  the  tale  and  I  with  woman's  heart 
Can  find  a  surer  way  than  quickest  wit 
[76] 


Of  man's  device.     Thus  shall  you  hold  the  vow 
And  further  love's  advantage. 

Gawaine 

'Twere  in  vain ; 
For  she  is  hard  of  heart  and  loves  him  not. 

Etarre 

Is  he  of  manner  lovable  and  kind, 

In  birth  accepted  and  in  courtly  ways  ? 

Gawaine 

All  these  he  is,  noble  and  great  and  true. 
Knighthood  he  honours,  and  the  halls  of  men 
Which  feel  his  stately  presence.     Such  an  one 
Is  like  a  crown  upon  the  head  of  kings. 
Adorning  them  with  beauty.     He  is  strong 
As  mountain  elm  or  heaven-cresting  pine. 
Yet  in  his  deeds  more  gentle  than  a  child 
And  in  his  thought  as  pure. 

Etarre 

'Tis  you  that  love. 
Could  she  with  such  enamoured  eyes  behold. 
The  earth  would  shrink  to  nothing  at  her  feet 
And  he  would  stand  alone  against  the  stars, 
A  hero,  crowned  with  passion,  as  with  light. 
In  other  guise  she  knows  him,  be  assured. 
And  finds  some  deadly  fault  whose  clinging  tooth 
Tears  at  his  virtues  and  with  venomed  drop 
Discolours  those  fair  tints  wherein  he  shines. 
177] 


Can  you  not  say  with  what  quick  wrong  estranged 
She  holds  him  from  her  ? 

Gawaine 

By  a  wilful  mood, 
A  child's  unreasoned  passion  of  dislike. 

Etarre 

There  is  an  eye  more  deep  than  reason  set. 
False-shadowed  forms  deceive  the  fleshly  sight. 
False  words  with  reason  dally,  lead  astray 
The  wisest  thought ;  but  this  is  undeceived. 
Have  you  not  marked  how  the  untutored  wild 
With  thoughtless  vision  of  pure  sense  discern 
Their  friends  or  enemies  in  humankind  ? 
And  so  with  woman  when  she  loves  or  hates. 
Ask  why  the  leaf  unfolds  to  April  rain 
But  lies  close-hidden  from  the  winds  of  March. 

Gawaine 

Did  I  not  say,  "In  vain"  ?    My  mind  forebode 
A  fruitless  mission.     Therefore,  let  me  go. 

Etarre 

Is  this  a  snare  of  wisdom  curling  round 
Into  unreason  ?  You  go  forth  in  vain : 
"Therefore,"    you    say,    "make    haste!"     Nay, 

therefore  bide ; 
If  you  are  so  persuaded,  that  your  words 
Can  never  waken  love  in  this  Unknown, 
This  obdurate  and  loveless  Beautiful 
[78] 


Who  spurns  this  knight  of  yours  and  will  not  heed, 
Then  bide  with  me,  and  feast  with  me,  and  dream 
Of  more  successful  loves,  more  gracious  toils. 
More  sweet  acceptance.     You  are  welcome  here. 
For  you  have  freed  me  from  a  deep  distress 
Which  boded  worse  disaster,  drawing  on 
With  monstrous  shapes  and  dreams  of  murdered 

men: 
For    with    my    own    weak    hands    and    woman's 

strength. 
Goaded  by  anger,  driven  by  despair 
I  should  have  bartered  Pelleas  with  death. 
And  sold  him  to  the  fearful  hands  of  night 
To  be  their  captive,  gaining  in  return 
From  that  grim  changers'-table  quick  release 
And  freedom  from  the  bonds  of  hate. 

Gawaine 

In  vain  ! 
Did   I   not   say,    "In   vain"?  —  This   murdered 

knight. 
This  Pelleas,  was  noble-souled  and  great 
And  women  loved  him. 

Etarre 

Like  a  strangling  noose 
He  clung  about  my  heart ;  through  pulse  and  vein 
A  clogging  hatred  thickened,  and  my  mouth 
Grew  dry  with  anger  and  unbidden  rage. 
But  tell  me  why  you  slew  him ;  not  in  hate. 
For  praise  you  speak ;  and  not  in  rivalry. 
For  great  you  name  him. 
[79] 


Gawaine 

'Twas  a  slanderous  tale 
Against  your  beauty  and  your  name.     To  him 
I  told  it ;   and  in  sudden  fire  he  shone 
And  with  his  sword  and  spear  proclaimed  you  true. 

Etarre 

Who  bade  him  praise  me  ?  let  my  word  and  deed 
Be  their  own  champion,  dress  their  shields  alone 
And  ride  to  battle  !     Was  my  hate  in  vain 
That  he  should  hound  me  with  remorseless  love  ? 

Gawaine 
For  you  he  died. 

Etarre 

And  I  shall  bury  him 
And  on  his  mound  set  an  ungraven  stone. 
That  I  may  cast  him  alway  from  my  mind 
As  life  has  cast  him  from  her  herald's  scroll. 
But  you  who  from  the  one  have  purged  his  name 
Shall  never  from  the  other  be  effaced. 

Gawaine 
I  pray  you  let  me  now  depart  in  peace. 

Etarre 

By  all  the  sacred  bonds  of  gratitude 
I  fetter  you  and  hold  you  now  in  thrall. 
By  courtesy  of  knighthood,  by  the  grace 
Of  man  to  feebler  woman,  by  the  strength 
Of  that  great  company  of  Arthur's  knights, 
[80] 


By  creed  of  chivalry  and  law  of  faith 
I  conjure  you,  remain  ! 

Gawaine 

Accursed  vow, 
What  evil  have  you  brought  me  !     Will  you  come 
And  cry  fulfilment  of  your  darkest  word  ? 
For  I  must  bide  and  to  the  utmost  proof 
Display  that  broken  embassy  of  love 
Whose  hopes  are  all  in  vain  ! 

Etarre 

Like  stricken  priest 
Who  sees  temptation  writ  on  every  wall. 
Wide-eyed  for  sustenance  you  murmur  prayer. 
Am  I  a  creature  wrought  in  deadly  shape 
Of  mortal  passion,  that  with  quivering  fear 
You  dare  not  here  abide  and  with  me  feast 
Holding  high  converse  of  adventured  deed  ? 
You  do  offend  me  with  ungracious  thoughts 
And  with  unworthy  shaft  suspicion  point. 
Yet  shall  you  be  forgiven  with  full  heart 
If  you  from  stern  intention  draw  aside 
And  turn  to  kindness.     For  three  nights  and  days 
Let  helm  and  breastplate  join  with  greave  and 

spur 
Unstirred  in  idleness. 

Gawaine 

With  eager  hands 
I  lay  aside  the  heavy  press  of  mail. 
G  [81] 


Etarre 

My  knights  shall  swift  disarm  you.     Here  remain ; 
My  servants  shall  attend  you. 

[She  leaves  the  room.] 

Gawaine 

Fatal  vow, 
For  thee  I  am  assailed.     How  hard  of  heart. 
How  cold  to  pity  is  that  glorious  form. 
That  haunting  presence  !     Yet,  what  body's  grace 
Here  shone  about  me  !  with  what  subtle  charm 
Of  pleading  voice  and  of  unveiled  desire 
She  bade  me  welcome  !     Nay,  not  ice  and  stone 
That  lovely  breast,  though  it  be  white  as  snow 
And  like  unsullied  marble  carven  out. 
O  honour,  bide  with  me,  unshaken,  strong ; 
O  knighthood,  watch  above  me.     Deep  events 
Have  wrought  me  danger.     O  thrice  wretched  vow 
That  makes  my  path  a  journey  through  the  dark 
And  spreads  disaster  wide  on  every  hand  ! 

CURTAIN 


[82] 


ACT  THREE 

SCENE:  Three  richly  bedecked  pavilions,  the 
central  one  in  the  foreground,  the  two  others  set 
further  back.  Draperies  and  silk  hangings. 
The  curtain  of  the  central  pavilion  is  drawn 
aside  to  reveal  the  decorated  interior.  Within, 
and  near  the  entrance,  are  seated  Gawaine  and 
Etarre.  To  the  left,  through  the  branching  trees 
and  above  their  summits,  the  walls  of  the  Castle 
of  Etarre  are  dimly  visible.  Toward  the 
right,  a  gentle  slope  descends  to  a  thicket  which 
shuts  off  the  view.  The  last  colours  of  sunset 
are  in  the  sky. 

Etarre 

Now  sinks  the  day  beneath  the  western  rim. 
Night's  hooded  shepherd  gathers-in  the  light 
And  drives  the  crimson  and  the  purple  hues 
From  highest  heav'n  unto  their  twilight  fold ; 
There  shall  they  sleep  till  morn  upwakes  anew 
And  sends  them  forth  on  eastern  pasturage. 
O  golden  cloud,  farewell ;  and  yonder,  too. 
Which  like  a  billowed  sea  upon  the  West 
Heaves  ruddy  flame.     Farewell,  sweet  colours  all ; 
The  night  makes  shut  the  heavy  doors  of  sleep 
And  seab  the  portals  with  a  silver  star. 

[83] 


Gawaine 

Dim  silence  flings  its  misty  veil  abroad. 

Hark  !  how  the  birds  are  stilled,  and  one  by  one 

Drop  off  to  slumber. 

Etarre 
Soon  the  horned  bat, 
Shy  lover  of  the  twilight,  soft  of  flight, 
With  ribbed  wings  in  noiseless  here-and-there 
Will  weave  the  darkness ;  and  the  searching  owl 
Will  be  a  shadow-phantom  clothed  with  sight. 

Gawaine 

Gone  is  the  day,  and  now  another  sun. 
Another  taper  in  th'  eternal  halls, 
Is  quenched  for  ever. 

Etarre 

So  the  breath  of  night 
Moves  down  the  long  expanse  of  kindled  flames 
And  one  by  one  makes  dark  the  future  days. 
Until  the  last  weak  taper  is  blown  out 
And  night  unending  rules  the  sunless  world. 

Gawaine 

Let  not  the  sadness  of  departed  day 
Weigh  present  joy  with  far  fore-boded  grief. 
Night  robs  us  not  of  vision,  though  her  hands 
Pluck  down  the  light  from  heav'n  and  bind  our 

eyes. 
Night  clothes  herself  in  beauty  like  a  queen 

[84] 


And  robes  her  naked  body  with  soft  folds 
Whose  half-concealment  makes  more  rapturous 
The  deep  allurement  of  her  charms.     The  day 
Is  but  a  meadow  garlanded  with  flowers ; 
The  darkness  is  a  forest,  deep  and  far. 
Where  wonders  move  in  every  rustling  leaf. 
And  every  footfall  of  the  wind  foretells 
Some  mystic  presence.     In  the  noonday  sun 
We  see  too  well,  and  thence  see  not  at  all ; 
But  in  the  night  our  very  spirit  wakes. 
And  with  more  gleaming  power  than  day-lit  eyes 
Reads    deep    the    world's   enchanted   rune.     'Tis 

Night 
WTio  unto  our  most  sacred  thought  and  word 
In  birth  brings  forth  the  beauty  of  the  soul. 

Etarre 

With  quiet  hands  she  lights  her  waiting  stars 
And  sends  them  forth  to  wander  in  the  skies. 

0  Night,  sweet  mother  of  eternal  calm, 

1  owe  thee  penance.    Thy  bright  brother.  Day, 
Has  lured  me  with  his  colours. 

Gawaine 

See,  the  East 
Is  spreading  silver  cloth  of  woven  light. 

Etarre 

The  little  people  of  the  hills  and  meads 
Now  hold  their  gathering  at  full  of  moon, 
With  grave  debate  enacting  law  and  will 

[851 


Whereby  to  rule.     In  angry  conclave  set. 
They  gird  their  resolution  unto  war, 
Till  beast  and  bird  are  stricken  by  their  wrath 
And  cry  full  penitence. 

Gawaine 

This  is  a  tale ; 
Yet  in  this  land  are  wonders  strange  enow 
Which  I  myself  have  witnessed. 

Etarre 

There  be  three 
^Tio  hold  this  land  in  power,  and  with  strange  skill 
Ordain  the  deeds  of  men.     They  oft  appear 
To  travellers  intent  on  distant  ways 
And  by  a  gift  of  favour  bind  their  will. 
These  three  have  you  encountered  ? 

Gawaine 

Even  they. 
WTiat  shall  their  craft  portend  ? 

Etarre 

Nor  good  nor  ill. 
My  knights  in  journey  unto  other  courts. 
My  men  from  field  returning  at  the  dusk 
Have  met  these  three  and  for  some  trifling  grace, 
A  draught  of  water  or  a  sprig  of  thorn. 
Been  bound  to  choice,  but  having  mid  the  three 
To  one  assented  are  unharmed  released. 

[The  moon  rises,] 
[86] 


Gawaine 

Whence  are  they,  and  with  what  malign  intent 
Draw  toll  from  men  ? 

Etarre 

This  no  man  knows  or  deems. 
They  are  of  mist  and  water,  and  their  ways 
Are  as  the  air  phantastic  or  the  clouds 
Which  change  their  shape  to  every  wilful  mood. 
But  this  adventure  comes  from  many  lips 
And  I  would  hear  some  deed  of  sword  and  spear 
Wrought  by  your  hand  alone,  and  from  your  lips 
Alone  recounted.     Were  you  not  of  they 
Who  sought  the  Grail  through  lands  beyond  the 

sea 
And    wrought    adventure    such    as    none    had 

dreamed  ? 

Gawaine 

A  future  quest,  forever  unfulfilled ; 
A  lure  across  the  rainbow  to  the  sun  ! 
'Tis  present  always  and  yet  never  here. 
May  I  not  be  of  them  who  make  this  life 
A  great  To-be,  a  vision  and  a  dream. 
Has  earth  no  riches,  that  we  ride  aquest 
To  find  the  silver  path  beyond  the  moon  ? 
Are  there  no  flowers  save  those  which  other  walls 
Enclose  for  ever  from  us,  and  no  streams 
Save  those  beyond  the  trackless  rocks,  no  sun 
In  our  own  heav'n  and  no  portentous  stars 
Save  those  which  others  see  ?     O  wretched  souls 
That  spurn  the  wine  of  life,  and  drain  the  cup 
[87] 


Into  the  basin  which  is  never  filled. 

Where  all  the  lees  of  mad  desire  run  down,  — 

The  Unattainable,  the  great  In  Vain  ! 

It  is  enough  for  me  that  here  to-night 

I  feel  the  soft  sweet  air  and  view  the  stars 

And  hear  your  voice  beside  me.     'Tis  enough 

That  love  is  beautiful,  that  life  is  great. 

That  old  age  is  not  come,  nor  winter  bleak. 

Etarre 

The  year  looks  backward  with  half-wistful  face 
This  autumn  night ;  the  air  is  soft  with  spring 
And  lulls  the  senses  to  a  sweet  repose. 
So  is  it  on  the  first  warm  eve  of  May 
When  earth,  expectant  of  an  unseen  grace. 
Awaits  it  knows  not  what,  all  awed  and  still, 
And  thinks  to  hear  across  the  sleeping  hills 
The  footsteps  of  divinity  returned. 

Gawaine 

And  not  in  vain ;  for  God,  each  Spring,  descends 

In  guise  unseen  to  shape  the  world  anew, 

To  plant  desire  in  every  fleshly  form 

And  resurrect  the  world  from  winter  sleep. 

Meseems,  to-night  He  is  returned  to  earth 

And  with  soft  wand  of  vernal  sorcery 

Brought  back  the  Spring,   and  in  our   sleeping 

souls 
Awakened  voices  singing  through  the  dark 
Like  birds  beneath  the  stars,  to  fill  the  night 
With  rapt  enchantment. 

[88] 


Etarre 

Mystical  delight ! 
Awake,  awake,  O  sleeping  birds  of  song  ! 
Awake  within  my  heart,  O  silent  birds. 
And  fill  the  night  with  music  till  the  stars 
Tremble  in  adoration  !  Have  I  lived  and  breathed 
These  many  years,  these  sombre  silent  years. 
Or  was  I  numbered  with  the  dreamless  dead, 
Encharnelled  in  a  palace,  deep  entombed 
In  empty  vault  of  daily  thought  and  deed  ? 
Like  them  that  walk  within  a  sleep  wide-eyed 
And  deem  themselves  awake,  so  have  I  lived,  — 
Nay,  so  been  dead,  and  deemed  myself  alive. 

Gawaine 
Do  you  not  feel  a  pulse  of  eager  blood 
Through  every  vein,  striving  with  beat  and  throb 
To  rouse  the  broken  armies  of  the  spring. 
And  hear  the  stamping  of  the  hoofs,  the  cries 
Of  mounted  knights  to  battle  riding  down  ? 
They  are  reclaiming  to  their  empery 
The  autumn  year,  and  winter's  pagan  horde 
Falls  back  before  them. 

Etarre 

Not  in  earth  and  air 
Alone  they  conquer,  but  in  human  mind 
They  set  their  banners  and  in  human  heart 
Stir  high  their  beacons. 

Gawaine 

Yea,  in  thine  and  mine. 
Held  captive  to  them  here  beneath  the  stars. 

[89] 


Etarre 
The  flames  leap  heavenward  with  growing  beam 
Of  kindled  passion.     O  mad  heart,  wild  heart, 
Why  do  you  beat  so  fast,  why  leap  and  strive 
Like  wild  thing  netted,  caught  within  a  snare 
That  leaves  it  free  to  struggle  ?    O  sweet  heart. 
Be  still,  be  still !  . 

Gawaine 
O  sweeter  lips,  speak  on ; 
Or  better,  speak  no  more ;  but  unto  mine 
Make  harmony  of  silence  and  desire. 

[They  Iciss^ 
[From  the  pavilions  in  the  background  is  heard  a 
voice  singing,] 

Song 

When  bleak  December  bares  the  hills 

And  snowflakes  curl  in  air. 
When  hoary  January  chills 

Young  hearts  with  old  despair. 
When  February  plucks  the  day 

And  plumes  the  stormy  night. 
When  March  winds  prowl  in  quest  of  prey 

And  battle  with  the  light, 
By  river  marge  and  reedless  lake 

Love  makes  her  weary  moan, 
"O  April  sun,  awake,  awake  !" 

She  sings  alone,  alone. 
O  hearts  of  men,  make  penance  due 

When  April  draws  anear. 
For  life  is  false,  but  love  is  true. 

And  Spring  is  here,  is  here ! 
[90] 


Gawaine 

O  singing  voice,  the  year  is  old  and  grey, 
Unto  the  tomb  totters  her  shaking  step. 
September  has  from  April  stolen  dress 
And  you  by  quick  illusion  are  deceived. 

Etarre 

One  day,  one  night,  one  shift  of  moon  and  sun. 
Each  year  are  stolen  from  the  hoard  of  Spring 
And  unto  Autumn  given.     On  that  eve 
All  flowers,  unknown  to  sleep-enchanted  eyes, 
Break  into  blossom  from  a  withered  stem. 
The  trees  are  clothed  in  leaf,  the  faded  stars 
Put  on  new  splendour,  and  the  drowsy  earth 
With  glow-worm  hangs  each  branch  and  dewy 

bower. 
It  is  the  year's  farewell  festivity 
Ere  love  be  quenched  and  winter  cold  return, 
Ere  bird  fly  southward  under  warmer  skies 
And  fourfoot  beast  to  sunless  lair  retire. 

Gawaine 

But  we  unharmed  through  rainy  nights  and  chill 
Shall  hear  the  storm  about  the  towered  walls. 
And  in  security  close-wrapped  shall  laugh 
When  winter's  frosty  fingers  pierce  and  pry 
At  every  stone  and  corner,  and  the  wind 
Cries  like  a  beast  unsheltered  through  the  night. 
Yea,  thou  and  I,  caught  in  each  other's  arms. 
Shall  dream  of  stormy  battle  overhead 
When  winter  with  the  giants  of  the  north 

[91] 


Sweeps  down  across  the  hills  and  smites  the  plain 

With  desolation,  when  above  the  dead 

The  whirling  snow  in  burial  descends, 

When  waters  are  bound  captive  in  strong  chains, 

When  wells  are  sealed,  and  rivers  turned  to  stone. 

And  I  will  tell  thee  many  a  tale  and  strange 

Of  dark  enchantment  wrought  in  waking  dreams, 

Of  magic  lawns,  and  flowers  that  backward  draw. 

Of  shields  that  burn  in  flame,  and  helms  that  raise 

Quick  serpents  clutching  the  unwarded  blow. 

So  shall  we  hold  the  icy  fiend  at  scorn 

And  waken  endless  summer  in  our  breast. 

With  love  to  sing  to  us,  and  love  to  clothe 

Our  souls  with  gladness  and  our  hearts  with  peace. 

Etarre 

How  many  times  I  love  thee,  whom  three  days 
Have  scarcely  crowned,  whom  speech   and   look 

and  thought 
Have  scarce  revealed  !    And  yet  a  thousand  suns 
Could  with  no  lordlier  radiance  bind  thy  brows 
Nor  with  more  light  illumine. 

Gawaine 

Thou  art  dear 
As  pearl  deep-hidden  in  the  lightless  sea 
Which  careless  net  a-search  for  other  prey 
By  chance  drags  upward  to  th'  astounded  light. 
One  glance  alone,  one  beam  of  shafted  day. 
The  wretched  fisher  clutches  priceless  wealth 
And  needs  no  knowledge  wrought  of  week  and  year 
[92] 


To  teach  his  fortune.     So  art  thou  to  me, 
Revealed  and  perfect  in  an  instant  sight. 

Etarre 

Hold  me  yet  closer,  let  the  living  world 
Sink  from  me  like  wild  stars  that  seek  the  night 
And  downward  vanish  in  the  vast  obscure. 
Quench  yonder  gleams  that  hold  the  dark  in  power. 
And  ban  yon  moving  shield  of  argent  beam ; 
Veil  moon  and  stars,  and  draw  me  to  thy  own. 

Gawaine 

O  best  endeared  and  sweet  beloved  form, 
Thou  art  the  earth's  most  precious  heritage. 
A  thousand  years,  she  fashioned  in  the  dark 
With  labour  and  sad  toil,  and  brought  thee  forth 
To  be  her  fairest  marvel  all  unstained. 
Thou  art  of  summer  nurtured,  light-enwrought, 
Cradled  in  southern  flame. 

Etarre 

The  silent  years 
In  their  dim  fastness  of  forgotten  days 
With  virgin  toil  unrecompensed  and  lone 
Have  fashioned  me  and  brought  me  to  thy  lips. 

Gawaine 

And  now  like  shrouded  mantles  of  the  dawn 
Soft  falling  from  the  shoulders  of  the  sun, 
They  do  reveal  thee,  girt  and  crowned  with  love, 
Thine  inmost  self,  for  utmost  worship  meet. 
[93] 


Etarre 

They  have  deserted  me,  hke  startled  birds 
Rising  from  nook  and  deep  recess  of  rock 
And  wheeling,  wheeling  higher  overhead, 
Till  with  a  sudden  impulse  they  depart 
And  leave  the  watcher  on  the  silent  shore 
Alone  and  marvelling.     So  have  they  fled. 
My  years  of  childhood  and  of  maiden  thought. 
My  lonely  years  of  growing  womanhood. 
And  I  am  left  alone  with  love  and  thee. 
While  at  my  feet  the  waters  smite  the  shore. 
Wave  after  wave,  in-coming  from  the  deep. 

Gawaine 

Of  that  great  time-swept  ocean  have  no  fear. 
The  future  is  a  snare  to  lead  the  eye 
Toward  far  horizons  clouding  the  unknown. 
It  is  the  present  w^hich  our  feet  must  tread 
And  there  our  vision  is  the  most  unsheathed 
And  we  with  least  illusion  can  behold. 
Think  not  of  years,  but  grasp  the  present  day. 
And  adamantine  make  the  fleeting  phase. 
Arrested  and  in  memory's  stone  held  fast. 
Carved   with  rich   wonder,   traced  with  strange 
design. 

Etarre 

Ah  would  that  Time  thus  stayed  his  course,  or 

clipped 
The  present  hour  and  left  it  shorn  of  wings 
To  be  our  prisoner  !     For  evermore 
Should  I  so  cling  to  thee,  my  lips  upheld 
[94] 


m^ 


For  thy  sweet  ardour  and  enkindled  mouth. 
For  ever  so  be  clasped  within  thine  arms. 
And  dure  eternity  in  thine  embrace. 

Gawaine 
All  things  save  this  can  might  of  love  fulfil. 
Love  can  of  dew  make  pearls  and  emeralds 
And  build  a  palace  of  a  ruined  moat, 
From  deepest  forest  charm  the  winged  bird 
To  minstrelsy  and  hymeneal  song. 
And  from  the  mountains,  draw  the  sullen  wild 
To  serve  in  quick  attendance  at  the  feast. 
With  power  of  shadowed  dreams  and  quickening 

thought 
Love  is  endowed :  she  chains  eternal  things 
To  be  her  servant,  binds  th'  unwilling  moon. 
And  draws  the  silver-threaded  stars  which  weave 
The  tapestries  of  heav'n.     The  golden  sun, 
Which  like  a  shuttle  moves  across  the  sky 
With  strands  alternate  of  the  day  and  night. 
Becomes  her  slave  and  lives  but  for  her  word. 
For  they  that  love  are  rulers  of  the  earth 
And  in  their  hands  the  future  ages  lie. 

[A  nightingale  sings  close  at  hand.] 

Etarre 
Did  I  not  say  this  night  was  caught  from  Spring  ? 
Hark  April's  nightingale  who  turns  the  dark 
To  music,  and  with  radiant  voice  proclaims 
That  summer  is  not  fled,  nor  autumn  here. 
To  bed  !  to  bed  !  sweet  bird ;  with  weary  eyes 
You'll  see  the  dawn  if  he  overtake  you  singing. 

[95] 


Gawaine 

And  unto  us  that  selfsame  counsel  turns 
And  bids  us  sleep.     Good  night,  sweet  love,  good 
night. 

Etarre 

Kiss  me  once  more,  till  love  be  bared  indeed 

And  I  in  sweet  communion  with  thy  thoughts 

Be  drawn  into  thy  life  and  be  a  dream 

Within  thy  mind,  a  pulse  within  thy  heart.  — 

Eass  me  once  more,  till  life  forsake  his  toil 

Of  mystic  alchemy  and  hidden  consonance 

Of  soul  with  body,  till  he  break  his  glass 

Wherein  he  visions  that  processional 

Of  generation  unto  generation  matched. 

That  sequence  of  mankind  and  beast  and  bird 

Which  marks  his  handicraft :  kiss  me  once  more. 

Until  he  merge  my  soul  in  deathless  bond 

To  thine,  and  in  eternal  union  join 

Our  mind  and  thought  and  will.  —  Kiss  me  once 

more. 
Till  heav'n  and  earth  be  reft  of  all  their  veils 
And  robbed  of  their  mysterious  dark  conceit. 
Till  I  behold  the  circles  of  the  sun 
And  see  the  pulsing  of  the  day  and  night, 
Hear  time  upon  his  anvil  forge  the  stars, 
And  be  at  one  with  universal  might.  — 
Kiss  me  once  more,  and  shatter  earth  and  sky 
Hurl  all  to  dissolution,  and  with  stroke 
Of  vast  desire  still  that  gigantic  heart 
Whose  beating  is  the  living,  moving  world. 
Leave  me  alone  with  thee,  set  round  with  night, 
[96] 


In  universal  dark  of  boundless  space, 

Alone,  alone.  —  Kiss  me,  and  so  good  night ! 

[She  rises  and  comes  forward  to  the  entrance  of  the 
pavilio7i,  where  she  stands  gazing  out,] 

How  silent  treads  the  night,  how  soft  and  still. 

With  finger  at  her  lips  to  hush  each  sound. 

That  none  of  those  who  bide  beneath  her  care 

Shall  with  uneasy  dreams  be  stirred,  and  wake. 

Sleep  soft,  ye  woods  and  meadow-lands. 

Ye  silent  leaves  and  sleeping  flowers. 

Pale  primroses,  and  daisies,  ye  sweet  eyes 

With  which  the  earth  looks  out  on  heaven, 

Be  still ;  all,  all,  be  still. 

Farewell,  ye  stars  which  overhead 

Drift  by  with  distant  song. 

Moon  wide-eyed,  watch  well; 

Watch  well  until  the  dawn. 

[She  lets  fall  the  curtain  across  the  entrance  of  the 
pavilion^  thus  shrouding  Gawaine  and  her- 
self from  sight.  The  moon  has  now  risen 
high  above  the  trees  and  bathes  the  stage  in  silver 
light.  A  soft  wind  stirs  the  leaves.  Their 
rustling  is  taken  up  and  transformed  to  music, 
—  at  first  scarcely  audible,  but  gradually  grow- 
ing in  intensity,  —  representing  the  sounds 
of  a  late  summer  night.] 

[The  music  stills.  Pelleas  and  Fergus  emerge 
from  the  thicket  on  the  right,] 


[97] 


Pelleas 

Stay  still :  no  further  move.     Our  question  here 
Shall  find  its  answer. 

Fergus 

Know  you  what  this  means  ? 

Pelleas 
Rejoicing  and  festivity. 

Fergus 

The  rite 
Of  burial. 

Pelleas 

What  mean  you  ? 

Fergus 

That  the  dead 
From  battle  ride  not  home.     You  are  betrayed. 
This  is  rejoicing  for  your  death,  festivity 
To  honour  him  who  slew  you.     For  she  holds 
That  Gawaine  with  true  victor's  right  and  might 
Carries  your  shield  and  helm.     You  are  betrayed. 

Pelleas 

Though  mine  own  eyes  beheld,  I  scarce  should  hold 
That  such  a  knight  to  such  a  vow  were  false. 
'Tis  Gawaine,  born  of  Caerleon's  royal  blood. 
Whom  you,  low-born,  attaint.     With  deadly  vow 
He  swore  him  faithful,  and  in  utmost  pledge 
Bound  life  and  body  to  fulfil  my  love. 
[98] 


These  were  his  words  upon  my  sword-hilt  sworn : 
"If  I  be  found  unfaithful,  changeful,  false, 
May  my  bare  throat  feel  this  unsheathed  blade, 
May  I  be  cast  for  ever  from  the  hght ! " 

Fergus 

The  vow  is  forfeit.     Go  !  reclaim  the  oath. 
They  have  no  fear  of  you  and  set  no  guard. 
Etarre  believes  you  dead,  and  Gawaine  laughs. 
She  shall  remember  that  the  dead  arise 
To   wreak   their  vengeance.     In   these  tents   are 

hid 
Sure  proofs  and  testimony. 

Pelleas 

^  There  remain. 

Within  yon  thicket  hidden,  till  I  come. 
[Fergus  draws  hack  out  of  sight,     Pelleas  ad- 
vances up  the  slope  toward  the  central  pavilion.] 

Pelleas 

Is  this  the  timid  prey  which  ran  to  earth 
Close  harried,  and  like  mole  which  dreads  the  light 
Drew  shut  her  portals  ?    This  is  she  who  feared 
My  least  approach,  who  with  armed  battlement 
Greeted  my  coming  and  with  moat  unbridged 
Bade   welcome.    These   soft  silks   and   drooping 

fanes 
Point  mockery,  as  though  they  scorned  to  hide 
That  which  they  cannot  guard. 

[He  has  approached  the  curtain  of  the  pavilion.] 
[99] 


So  comes  the  thief 
At  dead  of  night  on  foul  endeavour  bent. 
So  peers  to  left  and  right  with  fearing  eye. 
And  so  on  tip-toe  to  his  booty  draws. 
O  watching  powers  of  darkness  and  deceit. 
Grant  that  I  be  the  very  thief  and  true, 
And  not  myself  the  stolen-from,  the  robbed. 
The  injured  one  down-tracking  to  his  lair 
The  plucking  knave  and  claiming  back  his  own  ! 
[He  raises  the  curtain  and  peers  in.     After  a  mo- 

ment  he  suddenly  starts  hack.] 
O  sight  too  horrible  for  mortal  eyes, 
Burning  the  eye-ball  with  a  blackened  scar 
Of  infamy  and  loathing  !     Oh,  be  blind. 
Twice  injured  eyes.     Look  not  again  on  light. 
Clothe  yourselves  round  with  darkness,  and  for- 
get 
This  fatal  gift  of  seeing  !     O  accursed, 
O  nest  of  shame  breeding  repugnant  brood 
Of  broken  oaths  and  false  virginity  ! 
Now  is  the  scroll  of  knighthood  ended ;  fame 
Forsakes  her  ancient  stronghold  of  renown. 
The  days  of  chivalry  are  past,  and  knights 
With  plea  insidious  of  inviolate  oath 
Work  treason  and  adultery.     This  was  Etarre, 
The  maiden  ivory  in  her  chastity. 
With  eyes  downcast  for  fear  of  shame ;  and  now 
Her  lips  are  drawn  apart  with  hungry  sin 
And  like  a  serpent  feast  on  evil  fruit. 
O  night,   how  canst  thou   sleep  so   still  ?    Up ! 

Wake! 
With  hundred  voices  clamour  at  this  deed, 
[100] 


And  loose  the  hell-hounds   of  your  winds  and 

storms 
To  sweep  into  destruction's  cloven  pit 
This  treachery  and  crime  !     O  bitterness  of  man. 
To  see  his  life  down-trodden  and  the  dust 
Of  wild  despair  heap  charnel  mounds  and  whirl 
In  mockery,  while  Heaven  lifts  no  hand, 
The  oceans  are  unmoved,  the  river-floods 
Within  their  channels  tarry,  wind  and  fire 
Their  ancient  office  elsewhere  do  perform. 
And  moon  and  star  smile  in  serenity  ! 
Forsaken,  thrice  forsaken,  with  his  grief 
Man  wrings  no  pity.     The  great  world  is  stone ; 
God  holds  himself  aloof,  cold,  passionless, 
Wrapt  in  designs  of  far  eternities. 
Spurning  the  race  which  shudders  at  his  feet. 
He  fashions  future  kingdoms.     Weak,  alone. 
From  death  unsheltered,  bearing  wounds  and  ill 
In  life  upgathered,  man  cries  out  in  vain 
For  judge  of  evil,  champion  'gainst  the  wrong. 
But  I,  though  I  be  so  forsaken,  scorned  of  God, 
Unheard  of  earth  and  Heaven,  yet  shall  I 
Fulfil  my  vengeance,  with  unaided  hand. 
And  right  the  wrong  and  champion  the  true  ! 
False  Nature,  cry  farewell  to  children  twain 
Whom  thou  hast  nurtured  into  infamy ; 
Thou  canst  not  save  them  !  here,  against  thy  will, 
I  slay  them,  and  in  mockery  of  thee. 
[Lifting  the  curtain  of  the  pavilion  with  one  hand, 

and  with  the  other  holding  his  drawn  sword, 

he    enters    and    disappears   from    view.     He 

re-emerges.] 

[1011 


And  is  it  manhood  so  to  halt  and  fail. 
To  hide  the  sword  of  vengeance  in  the  sheath 
Of  pity  ?     Thought  and  deed  wage  mutual  war, 
And  deed  is  conquered ;  the  weak  thought  prevails. 
So  let  them  sleep ;  I  cannot  slay  them  now.  — 

[He  turns  to  go,  but  halts  suddenly.] 
What,  let  that  injury  to  all  my  hopes 
So  slumber  on,  so  let  that  shameless  word 
Sleep  unavenged  ?  — 

Ah  me,  how  still  they  lay  ! 
Gawaine  at  peace,  half  god-like  in  his  dreams. 
And  she  like  carven  statue  motionless. 
Her  lips  half  smiling,  her  dark-lidded  eyes 
Soft  closed,  and  one  white  hand  against  her  breast 
As  though  her  lover  still  within  her  clasp 
Lay  sleeping.  — 

O  deep  misery  accursed 
To  find  Etarre  at  last,  and  find  her  so  ! 
Am  I  by  craft  of  wizardry  encharmed 
That  all  my  thoughts  are  shades  and  fleshless 

dreams  ? 
With  maiden  weakness  here  I  stand  and  weep 
As  though  I  had  no  strength  of  hand,  no  sword 
To  bring  me  vengeance,  and  no  warrior's  will 
To  punish  proved  deceit  and  oath  forsworn. 
Unto  my  mercy's  prayer  I  cast  Etarre 
For  pittance,  but  my  anger's  deadly  curse 
Shall  Gawaine  take,  and  with  the  stroke  of  death 
Drive  out  his  soul  from  earthly  dwelling  place 
And  ban  for  ever  from  the  living  world. 
[He  re-enters  the  pavilion.     After   a  little,  he  re- 
emerges.] 

[102] 


Sleep  on,  sleep  on,  I  cannot  slay  you  here. 
On  field  of  battle,  waking  and  full-armed, 
I'll  slay  you ;  but  not  here,  not  now,  asleep. 
Unarmed,  defenceless.     Though  you  traitor  be, 
Of  knighthood's  stroke  unworthy,  yet  am  I 
A  knight,  and  with  that  sacred  oath  am  bound 
To  slay  no  sleeping  man  nor  foe  unarmed. 
To  battle  with  the  sword  and  not,  as  they 
Who  slay  their  sheep  for  feasting,  to  approach 
With  sharpened  knife  the  victim's  helpless  throat. 
Not  so  in  cowardice  was  knighthood  framed. 
Not  so  adorned  for  valour.     Nay,  sleep  on. 
You've  wronged  me  more  than  thousand  deaths 

could  pay ; 
To  take  a  single  life  so  wretchedly 
Were  but  a  mockery  of  payment.     Nay,    sleep 

on. 
And  if  your  dreams  affright  you,  be  at  ease ; 
For  that  grim  shadow,  standing  at  your  bed 
And  with  malign  intent  upon  your  life 
Down-gazing,  is  departed  and  returns 
No  more  to  vex  you.     Ay,  sleep  on,  sleep  on. 
[He  proceeds  down  the  slope.     At  the  foot  of  the 

slope  he  is  met  by  Fergus.] 

Fergus 
And  was  it  other  than  I  said  ? 

Pelleas 

Full  well 
Your  heart's  malignity  foretold  me  truth. 
[103] 


Fergus 
Gawaine  is  false  ? 

Pelleas 

The  night  with  darkling  robe 
No  falser  thing  conceals. 

Fergus 

Where  are  they  hid  ? 

Pelleas 
Yonder  pavilion  holds  the  twain  as  one. 

Fergus 

Then  have  you  slain  them,  meted  that  reward 
Alone  sufficient  and  well-earned  ? 

Pelleas 

They  live. 
Fergus 

You  had  not  power,  not  opportunity 

To  fall  upon  them ;  they  were  held  in  guard 

Or  otherway  from  you  removed  ? 

Pelleas 

Unwatched 
Their  couch,  unarmed  they  sleep  and  lone. 

Fergus 

And  are  not  dead  !     Are  you  of  honour  reft, 
Of  resolution  shorn,  of  anger  void  ! 
[104] 


Unmoved  you  know  yourself  betrayed  and  spurned, 
Laughed  at  and  mocked,  your  prize  of  ten  long 

years 
Snatched  from  you  in  a  day,  and  all  your  life 
O'ercast  with  sorrow.     Have  you  not  a  sword  ? 
Do  swords  not  slay  ?     Alas,  suspicion  grows ; 
This  is  not  Pelleas  who  held  the  field 
Of  armoured  knights  at  nought !     This  is  a  shade. 
And  Pelleas  by  years  of  pining  love 
Is  grown  too  frail  for  manhood,  and  too  weak 
For  anger.     Quick,  take  sword,  and  slay ; 
Set  seal  of  blood  on  this  foul  testament. 
Match  deed  to  deed.     Send  me  with  hungry  knife 
And  I  will  slay,  and  take  the  fault,  the  shame, 
K  you  have  found  a  fault  in  such  a  right, 
A  shame  in  such  a  work  of  injured  honour. 

Pelleas 

I  cannot  slay  a  sleeping  knight,  nor  turn 
The  pointed  sword  against  a  woman's  breast. 
Let  us  depart  this  most  unhallowed  spot 
Lest  quick  contagion  which  is  here  abroad 
Should  with  its  ill  infect  us. 

Fergus 

Unavenged 
You  would  depart,  and  leave  no  trace  behind, 
No  proof  of  anger,  no  memorial 
To  that  dishonourable  union  set, 
As  though  you  were  the  spirit  of  the  wind 
Across  the  moors,  trailing  nor  track  nor  sign 
To  mark  your  presence  ?     Shall  they  wake  at  dawn 
[1051 


And  fill  another  day  with  wretched  love, 

And  deem  themselves  secure  and  laugh  at  thought 

Of  Pelleas  ? 

Pelleas 
Well  said,  a  sign,  a  sign 
That  I  am  not  a  shadow,  but  a  man, 
A  fleshly  thing  with  mortal  strength  of  arm, 
A  threat  of  punishment,  a  deadly  fear 
Unsilenced  in  their  hearts. 

Fergus 

Ay,  still  their  hearts. 
This  is  the  sign  I  meant,  the  sign  of  death. 
That  all  men  may  take  knowledge  to  themselves 
And  learn  what  thing  it  is  thus  to  forswear 
All  honour,  and  in  treason  to  be  false 
To  Pelleas.     These  two  together  slain 
Shall  be  a  history  to  all  mankind, 
A  legend  and  a  saying. 

Pelleas 

Here  remain 
Yet  once  again  until  the  deed  be  done. 
I  shall  exact  his  oath. 

[He  ascends  toward  the  pavilion.] 

Fergus 

Praise  be  to  Heaven ! 
The  ancient  valour  is  returned,  to  swell 
High  flood  of  vengeance  and  exact  the  oath. 
How  ran  the  words   wherewith  he  pledged  his 
life? 

[106] 


"May  my  bare  throat  feel  this  unsheathed  blade. 
May  I  be  cast  for  ever  from  the  light ! " 
Then  is  he  slain. 

[Pelleas  enters  the  'pavilion.] 
And  yet  his  temper  burns 
Like  sudden  sun  upon  an  April  day. 
Hot  for  the  moment  but  too  soon  o'ercast. 
Let  me  go  up  and  strengthen  his  resolve 
Lest  at  the  last  he  weaken. 
[He  moves  toward  the  pavilion.   Pelleas  comes  out.] 

Ah,  returned. 
So  soon  returned.     He  had  not  time  to  fail. 

Pelleas 

It  is  fulfilled.     Across  his  naked  throat 
My  sword  has  gone. 

Fergus 
And  he  is  slain  in  truth  ! 

Pelleas 

Slain  ?    Nay,  not  slain,  but  sleeping  as  before. 
So  let  them  sleep  until  the  morning  comes 
To  waken  them  and  they  behold  my  sword 
Across  their  breasts,  close  drawn  beneath  their 

throats, 
A  sign,  in  symbol  of  a  broken  oath. 
Come,  let  us  go ;  the  night  draws  on  apace. 

Fergus 

O  idle  hope  to  dream  that  he  was  dead, 
By  vengeance  overtaken  !    No  !  return ; 
[107] 


Not  so  that  oath  was  sworn,  not  such  th'  intent ; 
With  death  he  bargained.    Let  him  death  receive. 

Pelleas 

What  I  have  done  is  with  full  purpose  wrought. 
Come,  let  us  go ;  the  night  draws  on  apace. 
[They  disappear  into  the  thicket.     A  cloud  crosses 

the  moon,  and  a  sudden  gust  of  wind  shakes 

the  trees.] 

CURTAIN 


[108] 


ACT  FOUR 

SCENE:  In  [the  Castle  of  Etarre.  A  hall,  with 
windows  overlooking  a  central  court.  Early 
morning  of  a  gloomy  day, 

Etarre 

Find  me  some  counsel,  for  with  wrath  and  hate 

My  senses  are  disordered.     Let  me  turn 

And  hide  myself  for  ever ;  here  close- walled 

Within  my  castle,  let  me  sit  and  brood 

On  man's  dishonour  and  my  fallen  pride. 

Let  me  no  more  be  seen  of  foreign  eye 

Lest  memory's  brand  draw  fire  across  my  cheek 

And  I  turn  hot  with  shame.     Ah,  so  deceived 

And  in  deception  so  displayed  to  him 

Who  most  was  wronged  !     Speak  !    is  there  no 

escape  ? 
Do  all  the  paths  draw  close  their  hedged  walks 
And  bar  the  way  ?    And  you  who  sang  of  love. 
For  day  and  night  unwearied  in  your  rhyme. 
Know  you  no  counsel  ? 

AlLEEN 

None  of  wrath  and  hate. 
[109] 


Etarre 

Shall  I  be  loving  ?  with  corruptive  name 
Call  falsehood  truth  and  welcome  all  deceit  ? 

AlLEEN 

You  are  not  stricken  so  beyond  all  health 

That  you  must  turn  to  death  for  comfort,  —  ay, 

Keep  house  with  grief  and  marry  with  despair. 

Etarre 

Then  on  my  sickness  lay  some  remedy ; 
Pluck  me  some  healing  herb  of  sweet  advice. 

AlLEEN  ^ 

Forgive,  forget.     These  are  most  heav'nly  sounds 
Which  to  discordant  actions  concord  bring 
And  work  harmonious  union.     Gawaine  sleeps 
And  of  th'  event  knows  nothing.     Be  as  he : 
Know  not  of  broken  slumber  and  a  sword. 
Nurture  no  counsel  of  unquiet  mind 
Against  his  fault ;  he  loves  you  well  and  true 
And  there  no  falsehood  lies. 

Etarre 

Forgive  !  forget ! 
Forget  that  to  these  walls  came  Gawaine  riding. 
With  victor's  helm  and  plume,  and  with  false  word 
Cried  Pelleas  dead  ?    Forget  my  joyful  praise. 
My  love  which  was  but  thankfulness  of  heart 
Upraised  in  gratitude  ?    Forgive  the  lie 
[110] 


Wherewith  he  lured  my  thanks  and  bought  my 

love, 
The  lie  wherewith  he  sealed  my  lips  and  eyes 
And  to  deep  slumber  bound  me,  while  another. 
Him  whom  he  boasted  slain,  within  my  tent 
In  musing  stood  and  saw  me  in  my  shame 
And  with  a  naked  sword  cursed  me  and  him 
With  whom  I  slept  ?     Forgive,  you  say  ?  forget  ? 
Not  till  the  mated  wolf  forget  his  lair 
Shall  I  forget,  nor  till  the  son  forgive 
The  slayer  of  his  sire,  shall  I  forgive. 

AlLEEN 

You  judge  too  harshly,  with  a  view  too  near. 
Like  them  who  hillocks  into  mountains  raise 
Because  they  stand  beneath  them,  head  thrown 

back 
And  eyes  upcast,  unknown  that  from  afar 
These  hillocks  merge  into  the  level  plain. 
No  deadly  work  of  ancient  kingdoms  lost. 
Armed  hosts  betrayed  and  knights  in  prison  slain. 
Has  Gawaine  wrought.     He  lied  ?    nay,  what  of 

that? 
With  false  pretence  won  favour  ?   'tis  no  crime. 
He  was  with  love  intentioned :  men  are  fain 
To  overstep  the  fettered  pace  of  honour 
When  love's  the  goal.    And  do  you  think  him 

base 
Claiming  another's  death,  thereby  to  gain 
Your  love,  when  to  have  held  the  ways  of  truth 
Led  to  a  loveless  issue  ? 

(Ill] 


Etarre 

You  would  make 
Fair  winds  from  stormy  quarters  blow,  and  set 
The  northern  sun  in  winter  skies.     With  words 
False-founded  on  the  marsh  of  shifting  thought 
You'll  not  persuade  me. 

AlLEEN 

But  by  surer  proof. 
Rock-built  and  firm,  which  never  wind  of  doubt 
Can   shake   to   earth.     Though   Gawaine  falsely 

wrought 
And  with  dishonour  entered  covenant. 
Let  past  be  past,  and  mingle  not  its  gall 
With  present  mead,  lest  bitter  be  the  draught. 
Gawaine  you  love ;   and  for  that  love's  fair  sake 
Rouse  not  the  past  against  him. 

Etarre 

Love  and  hate 
Hang  not  on  every  moment's  fleeting  lure. 
But  from  dead  hours  and  withered  years  depend. 
Past  thoughts  do  act  upon  our  present  mood 
And  get  new  children ;   men  are  fools,  who  think 
This  deathless  creature,  time,  was  ever  held 
Within  the  coffin :  there's  no  hour  o'  the  day 
But  lives  for  ever  in  unlessened  strength ; 
No  mightier  love  in  earth  or  ocean  dwells 
Than  that  between  the  present  and  the  past. 
And  none  more  fruitful.     Ay,  forget  the  past  ? 
Forget  the  dark  which  quenches  every  fire 
[112] 


Within  my  heart,  and  in  unmindful  bliss 
Call  Gawaine  pure,  a  knight  without  a  stain  ? 

AlLEEN 

And  is  he  so  dishonoured  ? 

Etarre 

Let  me  speak. 
Let  me  be  herald  and  proclaim  his  deed ; 
For  now  I  mind  me  of  a  word  he  said, 
A  truthful  tale  for  lying  purpose  told. 
His  was  a  quest  to  win  a  lady's  love, 
Not  for  himself,  he  said,  —  O  guileful  claim  !  — 
But  for  another.     I,  with  idle  wit. 
Knew  not  'twas  Pelleas  of  whom  he  spoke 
And  mine  the  heart  which  he  was  sent  to  win. 
'Twas  thus  that  with  another's  helm  and  shield 
He  came  disguised ;  but  not  as  conqueror,  — 
As  servant  bearing  message  to  my  halls. 
And  like  a  servant  to  his  master  false 
He  decked  himself  with  borrowed  finery 
And  played  a  stolen  part. 

AlLEEN 

'Twas  not  a  slave 
Who  played  the  master,  but  the  royal  lord 
In  servile  garb  demeaned.     You  are  unkind 
To  make  comparison  with  things  unlike 
And  thence  draw  profit. 

Etarre 

He  has  cast  aside 
The  cloak  of  honour,  thrown  the  sceptre  down, 
I  [113] 


The  kingly  staff  of  faith,  whereby  we  rule 
Ourselves  and  others.     Perjured  and  forsworn. 
To  knighthood  false,  to  fellow-knight  untrue. 
He  wrought  upon  me'  with  unrighteous  deed 
Which  to  his  oath  proved  mortal  and  betrayed 
His  embassy. 

AlLEEN 

It  is  himself  he  harms. 
Not  others.     Pelleas  whom  you  never  loved 
Is  not  of  love  defrauded.     What,  forget  ? 
You  say  to  heav'n,  you  cannot  so  forget  ? 
You  have  forgotten  in  an  hour's  short  span 
Ten  years  of  hatred. 

Etarre 

Nay  !  I  love  him  not ! 
Yet,  when  I  see  a  knight  so  wronged,  the  tears 
Of  pity  well  unbidden  to  mine  eyes 
In  quick  compassion ;  when  I  think  on  him, 
Betrayed  by  Gawaine  and  from  hope  exiled. 
Spurning  revenge  and  to  his  sleeping  foe 
Soft  pity  granting,  can  I  nourish  hate 
Against  a  grief  so  nobly  self -endured. 
Knighthood  so  proven  ? 

AlLEEN 

What  of  grief  he  bore 
Through  ten  cruel  years,   knighthood   so  nobly 

shown 
In  joust  and  battle,  dungeon  and  disgrace  ? 
Well,  let  him  stand  forgiven :  light  the  fires 
[114] 


Of  your  resentment,  kindle  torture-flames. 
And  unto  Gawaine  turn  your  restless  hate. 
Let  him  like  purest  ore  be  doubly  proved 
In  midmost  heat  of  anger,  till  the  dross 
Of  foolish  pride  and  guileful  deed  be  shed 
And  golden  faith  emerge.     He  will  repent 
And  with  contrition  turn  to  them  he  wronged. 
Suing  for  pardon. 

Etarre 

He  shall  sue  in  vain 
If  unto  me  he  turn. 

AiLEEN  [at  the  vdndow] 

Within  the  court 
Rain-drops  begin  to  fall ;  the  western  wind 
From  stormy  ocean  journeys,  with  the  net 
Wherewith  he  dragged  the  sea  for  water-drops 
Across  his  shoulders  flung,  dripping  with  rain. 
His  cloak  upcast,  he  hides  the  morning  sun 
And  with  his  fisher's  hat  throws  giant  shade 
On  all  the  hills.     Look  well  upon  his  ways. 
For  in  your  soul  there  strides  a  shadow  vast 
Hiding  the  sunlight  of  clear  thought  and  love 
With  clouds  of  anger,  fraught  with  fall  of  tears. 

Etarre 
'Twas  but  a  phantom  sun  at  midnight  sent, 
A  wisp  o'  the  marshes,  caught  among  the  stars. 

AlLEEN 

*Twas  the  great  sun  in  heav'n,  and  you  have 
spurned 

[1151 


God*s  utmost  gift,  the  light  wherewith  men  see. 
For  love  is  as  a  light  within  the  eyes. 
And  with  it  vision  enters,  bird  and  beast 
Wax  cunning,  the  fierce  eagle's  sight  is  bared 
Where  like  a  drifting  point  against  the  clouds 
He  holds  his  guard ;  swallows  and  singing  birds 
Gather  their  tribe  and  nation,  and  unvexed 
Go  pilgrimage ;   who  guides  them  on  their  way  ? 
Who   taught  the  thrush  to  build   his   nest,   the 

mole 
To  dig  his  halls  and  chambers  ?     Well  you  know 
Desire  of  life,  desire  of  love,  alone 
Give  these  their  knowledge ;   river-fish  depart 
On  distant  journey  to  the  ocean  stream 
And  yet  return ;   the  woodland  deer  with  fawn 
Sees  huntsman  while  the  hounds  are  yet  in  leash ; 
And  arrows  miss  their  prey  in  summer  months. 

Etarre 

Fine  threads  of  fancy,  airy  webs  of  thought ; 
They  touch  me  not. 

AlLEEN 

Then  hear  a  grosser  tale. 
It  is  not  well  that  woman's  hand  should  rule 
By  man  unaided,  for  in  weaker  mould 
Her  body's  strength  is  fashioned,  and  her  mind 
Trembles  before  assault.     Bright  fortune's  star 
Has  watched  above  you,  for  the  hounds  of  war 
Have  never  drawn  their  trail  across  your  land. 
And  that  grim  huntsman,  who  with  double  stroke 
Slays  foe  and  friend,  has  passed  these  regions  by ; 

[1161 


m 


'Twas  far  away  we  heard  the  clamorous  tongues 

Of  questing  hounds,  and  cry  of  men  a-chase. 

But  war  returns  :  one  quarry  run  to  earth 

And  slain  in  bloody  moil,  his  hounds  find  scent 

Of  other  prey.     Across  the  harvest-fields 

He  spurs  the  hunt,  through  villages  asleep. 

By  moat  and  grange,  through  breadth  of  all  the 

land. 
And  when  beneath  your  walls  his  bugles  blow 
And  you  with  woman's  strength  of  arm  and  will 
Must  bold  confront  him,  you  will  shrink  afraid ; 
The  walls  with  stroke  of  iron-girded  beam, 
The  shaken  portals,  towers  down-ravening, 
Shall  with  disaster  terrify  your  sense. 
Yield  unto  man  his  heritage  of  power ; 
His  is  the  crown  of  courage,  his  the  strength 
Which  bides  unmoved  the  deadly  front  of  war. 
To  man,  but  yesternight,  you  gave  your  love 
And  to  his  passion  yielded  sense  and  soul ; 
To-day  you  cry  release  and  would  reclaim 
Th'  irrevocable  compact.  —  Let  me  speak  ! 
You  wrong  me  with  your  anger  !     At  your  gates 
A  wanderer  stands,  with  staff  and  laden  scrip ; 
Upon  his  brow  is  written  peace,  his  hands 
A  scroll  upraise ;  he  bears  the  hidden  sword 
Of  safety,  and  the  cup  of  heart's  content. 
You  turn  him  from  your  gates,  because  his  feet 
Are  travel-stained,  because  he  wears  a  cloak 
From  others  taken,  and  the  scroll  reads  false. 
Be  well  advised ;  this  pilgrim  comes  but  once ; 
Throw  wide  your  doors,  cry  Welcome,  he  is  here  ! 

[117] 


Etarre 
I  close  my  portals  to  him ;  from  the  walls 
I  herald  him  be  gone.     You  fan  the  flame 
Of  anger  in  me. 

[Gawaine  enters,] 

Etarre  [to  Aileen] 

Let  me  be  alone. 
[Aileen  goes  out  while  Gawaine  is  speaking.] 

Gawaine 
Must  love  at  touch  of  dawn  his  dreams  dispel 
And  from  his  kingdom  flee  ?    Through  empty  halls 
I've  sought  in  vain. 

Etarre 

With  scrutiny  more  keen 
Instruct  your  failing  eyes.     I  am  not  she 
For  whom  you  search. 

Gawaine 

Why,  you  are  changed  indeed. 
Are  you  some  flower  that  blossoms  in  the  night 
And  in  the  day  with  envious  stalk  of  thorns 
Enfolds  its  chalice  ?     With  unfriendly  mien 
You  look  upon  me,  warn  me  with  set  frown, 
Chill  me  with  loveless  words.     Are  you  not  she 
Who  yesternight  beneath  the  flaming  stars 
Vowed  me  eternal  love  ?     You  are  not  she  ! 
The  day  has  raised  its  sword  and  cleft  apart 
That  union  of  our  souls.     What  have  I  wrought 
Amiss,  what  deed  to  love  untrue  ? 
[118] 


Of  your  own  heart. 


Of  knowledge. 


Etarre 

Demand 

Gawaine 

'Tis  dark,  pierced  with  no  light 

Etarre 


Nought  is  to  you  better  known. 
It  is  forever  in  your  waking  mind ; 
The  day  has  written  it  in  thousand  hues 
Across  your  vision ;  wheresoever  you  turn 
'Tis  burnt  and  carven  in  your  inmost  thought ; 
The  cocks  have  crowed  it  in  their  morning  song, 
And  every  word  men  speak  points  thumb  to  it. 
You  cannot  sleep  but  in  your  deepest  dream 
It  shows  its  pattern. 

Gawaine 

What  is  this  you  know  ? 
Have  I  with  slumb'ring  spirit's  drowsy  sense 
Some  foolish  tale  unfolded  ?     Men  believe 
The  waking  words  and  not  th'  illusive  dream. 

Etarre 

Your  lips  betrayed  you  not ;  they  are  too  well 
In  silence  schooled. 

Gawaine 

Then  is  some  message  come. 
Some  lying  tale  from  sland'rous  lips  of  men  ? 

[1191 


Etarre 
Nor  spoken  word,  nor  written. 

Gawaine 

From  the  walls 
You  saw  some  vision  to  affright  your  mind 
Against  me  ? 

Etarre 
Ay,  the  golden  king  of  day 
Held  prisoner  in  gloomy  halls :  nought  else. 

Gawaine 
Why,  then  rejoice,  and  laugh  at  wind  and  rain. 
Come,  kiss  me ;  and  confess  you  penitent 
That  dawn  should  wake  me  in  an  empty  world 
And  rob  me  of  the  fairest  jewel  of  day. 

Etarre 
Plant  flowers  to  close  the  grave  where  murder  lies. 
With  golden  portal  seal  the  beggar's  hut, 
But  this  you  cannot  hide. 

[From  behind  a  curtain  she  drags  out  the  sword  of 
Pelleas.] 

Know  you  this  sword  ? 

Gawaine 
'Tis  but  a  sword :  I  know  it  not. 

Etarre 

The  hilt 
Has  graven  letters :  hearken  their  device, 
"The  son  of  Ork;  be  strong  and  hold  me  fast." 
[120] 


Gawaine 

Pelleas!  the  sword!    Tell  me,  whence  came  the 

sword  ? 
Who  brought  it  to  your  hands  ? 

Etarre 

Who  else  but  he  ? 
Pelleas  the  slain,  the  dead  knight  from  his  grave  ! 

Gawaine 
Through  shadows  of  the  early  day  he  crept 
And  in  your  ear  dropped  poison  ?  told  you  all. 
With  bitter  words  probed  deep  his  injury, 
And  searched  the  vitals  of  his  hate  ! 

»     Etarre 

I  know 
But  this,  that  Pelleas  lives  and  can  avenge. 
That  you  have  dealt  with  perjury  and  shame. 

Gawaine 
You  know  that  I  have  falsely  wrought,  have  lied. 
Worked  with  untruth :  these  things  you  know  full 

well. 
You  know  not  that  I  was  by  Pelleas  sent. 
By  him  enarmed,  trusted  with  tale  of  death. 
You  think  not  of  the  strife  within  my  soul. 
Unbodied  forces  in  contention  thrown 
For  mastery  within  me.     Do  you  mind 
How  you  with  praise  assailed  me,  with  soft  word 
And  glance  ?     Not  I,  not  I,  who  played  me  false. 
But  you  who  brought  me  ruin.     'Twas  a  vow, 
[121] 


upon  this  very  hilt  'twas  given  oath, 
And  now  it  is  betrayed.     It  was  a  knight, 
Who  in  great  tourney  won  this  very  sword. 
And  now  he  is  betrayed.     You  ask  me,  Why  ? 
With  Wherefore  vex  me  —  you  who  know  so  well ! 
Your  eyes,  your  lips,  your  body's  silver  form, 
These  are  the  Wherefore,  these  the  cunning  cause. 
So  deadly,  so  corruptive  to  the  mind. 
That  were  the  deed  undone,  and  I  to  choose, 
I'd  choose  against  all  honour,  and  with  you 
Blind  out  this  pallid  ghost  of  knighthood,  drown 
Reproach,  and  strangle  recompense. 

Etarre 

Away ! 
Mine  eyes  are  stricken  with  the  sight  of  you 
And  inward  turn,  praying  for  some  release 
From  this  most  bitter  vision.     You  have  dared 
To  wed  me  with  the  broken  ring  of  faith 
Forsworn;   you've   snapped  in  twain  the  lute  of 

And  Happiness,  bright  minister  of  God, 

That  solitary  hermit  who  descends 

But  once  a  year  from  his  eternal  rocks 

Into  the  market-place  of  men,  you've  crowned 

With  crown  of  thorns,  dealt  stripes  and  buffeting 

And  sent  him  back  into  the  desert  heights 

To  weep  forlorn.     You've  brought  me  grief  and 

hate. 
And  now  'tis  I  who  wronged  you,  I  who  led 
Your  helpless  honour  to  dishonour's  grave ! 
Away  !  and  come  not  ever  to  these  halls 
[122] 


Lest  I  forget  my  woman's  heritage 
And  like  a  man  avenge  me. 

Gawaine 

Give  me  word, 
And  let  me  speak.     For  much  pleads  with  my 

cause 
And  with  me  makes  defence. 

Etarre 

The  very  night. 
Which  shelters  crime  and  to  the  deeds  of  sin 
Accords  its  refuge  and  unhallowed  screen. 
Betrayed  you.     I  have  heard  and  seen  and  judged, 
Yea,  judged  too  kindly,  leaned  too  much  aside 
To  mercy.     Go  !     And  if  you  here  remain. 
You  idly  wait :  here  shall  I  not  set  foot 
Until  within  the  court  I  know  the  hoofs 
Of  your  departing  steed  bear  from  my  life 
Its  crudest  injury. 

Gawaine 
No  steed  have  I 
Who  am  alone  in  all  the  land. 

Etarre 

Then  take 
From  out  my  stables.     Quick  !  make  haste  and  go. 
[She  turns  abruptly  and  leaves  the  room.] 

Gawaine 
So  shatters  that  mysterious  glass  of  love 
Wherein  delight  was  mirrored ;  so  departs 
[123] 


That  glorious  ray,  and  so  the  night  returns 

With  all  its  solitude.     Lo,  I  am  cast 

For  ever  from  the  light !     Farewell,  Etarre ; 

You  were  unkind,  and  with  a  passion's  storm 

Brought  devastation  to  the  garden-close 

Wherein  love  blossomed.     Wrath  and  fiercest  hate 

Were  never  of  a  speedier  onset  borne. 

And  the  red  flight  of  hell  was  never  stirred 

To  such  a  fury.     On  the  mound  which  marks 

Your  love's  decease,  my  thought  shall  plant  a  spray 

Of  budding  thorn  for  memory.     Mighty  Heaven, 

That  on  our  thought  and  action  boldest  count. 

Bear  witness  in  thy  universal  scroll, 

I  am  misjudged  !    [pausing  suddenly]     Or  am  I 

judged  aright  ? 

To  quick  repentance  should  I  turn,  or  hate  ? 

Be  scornful  or  be  sad  ? 

[He  turns  to  go.] 

What's  done  is  done. 

Close  meditation's  gloomy  book  of  fears ; 

I'll  read  no  more  in  it. 

[Fergus  enters.] 

Who's  here  ? 

Fergus 

I  came 

With  other  hopes  than  these,  nor  thought  to  find 

Gawaine  within  the  land. 

Gawaine 

Yes,  you  are  he 
Who  on  the  moors  thought  every  wind  which  blew 

[124] 


Christened  the  serf  with  knighthood,  equal  made 
Low  born  and  high. 

Fergus 

And  of  false  wooers  spake 
A  word  not  unfulfilled. 

Gawaine 

That  rankling  tongue 
Has  learned  no  better  trade  than  erst  it  knew. 

Fergus 
No  better  trade  than  truth. 

Gawaine 

Nor  lighter  curb 
Than  that  which  silences  for  ever. 

Fergus 

Knight, 
If  knight  you  be,  who  so  with  knighthood  deal. 
El  taught  am  I  in  that  mysterious  lore 
Whereof  my  master  speaks ;   'tis  honour  called. 
It  bids  us  spare  the  foe  when  at  our  feet 
He  crumpled  lies ;  when  prison  doors  spring  wide. 
It  spurns  escape ;  when  fortune  to  our  hands 
Has  brought,  unarmed  and  sleeping,  our  revenge, 
It  falters  in  its  anger.     'Tis  a  staff 
Which  leads  us  into  regions  insecure 
And  robber-haunted  ways.     It  is  a  lance 
Which  backward  wounds,  a  double-toothed  sword. 
I  am  not  learned  in  this  subtle  craft ; 
[125] 


For  me  a  single  law  sufficient  rules,  — 
To  help  my  friend  and  slay  mine  enemy. 
And  when  I  hear  this  speech  of  low  and  high, 
Base-born  and  noble,  I  am  much  perplexed  — 

Gawaine 
As  all  men  are,  with  what  they  cannot  grasp. 

Fergus 

One  truth  I  know,  one  truth  I  grasp  secure. 

You  have  betrayed  my  master,  worked  him  wrong 

As  only  death  can  pay.     He  has  released 

That  mortal  payment,  left  you  all  unharmed ; 

And  you,  who  know  how  great  a  debt  is  here. 

Unmoved  remain  within  these  halls.     Take  horse 

And  ride  with  all  the  cudgels  of  the  wind 

To  speed  your  flight !     Or  else  on  bended  knee 

Cry  his  forgiveness ;  praise  that  noble  heart 

Which  unto  anger  turns  not ;  to  all  men 

Bear  forth  the  shield  of  his  tranquillity. 

Recount  his  deed  in  every  festival 

And  at  the  door  of  kings  proclaim  his  worth. 

Go  forth  in  penance.     You  have  worked  a  deed 

Which  I,  low  born,  of  honour  all  untaught. 

Should  hold  too  black  for  doing. 

Gawaine 

May  the  fiends 
In  caldron's  brazen  darkness  thrust  you  down  ! 
Such  taunts  with  th'  sword  are  answered,  not  with 
words. 

[126] 


Fergus 

Such  taunts  are  written  in  the  book  of  deeds 
Where  every  word  is  truth.     You  dare  not  slay, 
Who  with  a  guilty  eye  stare  out  on  me 
And  with  fear's  ague  tremble  to  behold 
Your  deed  confronted. 

Gawaine 

Then,  false  deed,  be  still. 
And  never  more  between  those  lips  be  cast 
To  work  me  slander. 

[He  draws  his  sword  against  Fergus.] 

Fergus 
You  have  slain  enough. 
First  'twas  your  honour  which  you  stabbed  to 

heart 
And  with  that  stroke  to  Pelleas'  happiness 
Dealt  mortal  blow ;  then  'twas  a  virgin  name 
Which  you  from  life  despatched  with  lusting  hand ; 
And  now  on  pardon's  messenger  you  turn 
Your  deadly  blade. 

Gawaine 

Unclothe  that  mystery. 
And  let  me  look  on  naked  form  of  thought. 
Not  on  these  wordy  veils.     What  message  comes  ? 
What  is  this  pardon  you  are  sent  to  bring  ? 

Fergus 
'Tis  dead.     Lest  it  should  fall  between  your  hands, 
I've  slain  it.     Go,  and  dream  that  mad  revenge 
[127] 


With  dripping  foam  upon  her  speechless  hps 
Is  on  your  track,  pursuing  with  red  feet 
In  murder  dabbled,  and  with  rabble-rout 
Of  demons  plucking  at  your  fleeing  hair. 

Gawaine 

So  have  you  driven  the  last  bolt  and  bar 
Across  your  tomb. 

[He  strides  with  drawn  sword  against  Fergus.] 

Fergus 

And  so  with  blade  drawn  bare 
Stood  Pelleas  above  your  sleeping  couch 
And  at  your  throat  set  hate's  envenomed  point ; 
Yet  spared  you,  spared  you  in  your  marriage 

sleep 
Which  was  to  his  lone  love  the  sleep  of  death. 
Have  you  from  mercy's  high  example  learned 
No  lowly  creed  ? 

Gawaine 

Within  our  tent,  you  say  ? 
Above  our  couch  ?     What  ?    found  me  lain  with 

her 
And  took  no  vengeance  ? 

[After  a  pause.] 
Verily,  'tis  here. 
Knighthood's  most  glorious  pattern  to  all  time, 
Mercy's  most  perfect  counterpart.     Be  sheathed. 
Mad  sword  of  hate ;  be  still,  and  strive  no  more ; 
In  other  lands  we'll  seek  a  nobler  crown 
[128] 


And  bear  this  emblem  of  bright  chivalry 
Blazoned  within  our  heart. 

[He  turns  and  leaves  the  room.     Through  the  oppo- 
site door  AvRAN  enters.] 

AVRAN 

High  words  were  here,  and  wrangle  of  dispute. 
Are   you   alone  ?     Whence   came   that   sound   of 

strife 
Which  from  the  rampart  drew  me  ? 

Fergus 

'Twas  a  tale 
Which  I  to  me  recounted,  of  a  knight 
Who  did  foul  deeds  with  fairest  countenance. 

AvRAN 

Two  voices  quarrelled.     Who  was  here  with  you  ? 
And  how  within  these  halls  came  you  alone  ? 

Fergus 

'Twas  Gawaine  bringing  me  a  last  farewell ; 
And  as  for  me  I  seek  some  knight-at-arms 
To  carry  urgent  message  to  Etarre. 

AvRAN 
Whence  come  you  ? 

Fergus 


Where  we  inhabit. 


From  the  hill  and  open  moors 

AvRAN 

Whom  is  it  you  serve  ? 
[129] 


Fergus 
The  greatest  knight  in  all  the  western  land. 

AVRAN 

Has  he  a  name,  that  I  may  know  of  him  ? 

Fergus 
A  name  that  to  your  hearing  rings  not  strange. 

AvRAN 

Then  let  me  know  it. 

Fergus 
Pelleas  is  the  name. 

AvRAN 

Are  you  his  servant  ? 

Fergus 
With  a  message  here 
That  Pelleas  with  Etarre  would  speak. 

Avran 

You  come 
On  venture  profitless.     From  open  door 
You'll  see  dismissal  beckoning  your  flight. 
Etarre  has  only  hatred.     Get  you  gone. 

Fergus 

Do  you  not  know,  the  sparrows  in  the  rain 
Of  early  morning  hold  another  speech 
Than  that  of  sunlight  and  clear  day  ? 
[130] 


AVRAN 

And  what 
Portends  that  saying  ? 

Fergus 

Do  you  tell  Etarre 
That  Pelleas  is  at  hand,  and  would  be  heard. 
There  is  a  change  come  over  heaven's  demean 
And  other  forces  rule ;  this  message  bear 
While  I  in  search  of  Pelleas  am  departed. 

[He  goes  out] 

AvRAN 

How  insolent  he  stares ;  his  vaunting  tongue 
Bristles  with  pride.     Yet  shall  it  soon  be  dulled. 
And  like  the  thistle's  head  lie  low,  cut  short 
By  all  the  scythes  of  anger. 

[Etarre  enters.] 

Etarre 

He  is  fled. 

AvRAN 

This  very  moment  gone. 

Etarre 

I  marked  his  step 
Some  minute  since  within  the  court ;  how  say  you 
This  very  moment  gone  ? 

Avran 

But,  as  you  entered 
He  did  depart.    How  know  you  of  him  ? 
[131] 


Etarre 

Whom  ? 
Of  Gawaine  ? 

AVRAN 

No ;  this  knavish  messenger 
Who  plumes  himself  with  dappled  tints  of  pride, 
And  like  a  mating  bird  struts  high. 

Etarre 

Whom  mean  you  ? 

AvRAN 

'Twas  one  from  Pelleas  come  — 

Etarre 

What,  come  from  Pelleas  ? 
Good  fortune  works  communion  with  my  wish. 
What  said  he  ?     Is  he  yet  within  the  land  ? 

AvRAN 

Are  you  so  eager,  where  I  looked  for  scorn's 
Fierce  speech  of  hatred ;  nor  for  such  a  tone  — 

Etarre 
Will  you  destroy  me  with  impatience  ?    Quick, 
What  said  he  ? 

AvRAN 

Word  most  insolent  and  vile ; 
That  Pelleas  with  Etarre  demanded  speech. 
Here  is  affront  o'ertopping  all  offence. 

Etarre 
Where  is  he  ? 

[132] 


Atran 

Near  at  hand.     His  servant  went 
To  fetch  him  hither. 

Etarre 
Then  take  haste  to  wife 
And  with  all  speed  bring  Pelleas  to  my  sight. 

[AvRAN  goes  out] 
Etarre 

How  wretched  are  the  dead,  to  whom  remains 

No  holy  power  in  reparation's  wand 

Transmuting  into  gold  their  baser  deeds. 

Within  the  narrow  channels  of  the  grave 

They  think  upon  their  sins,  and  with  no  word 

Can  alter  that  which  erst  they  wrought  amiss. 

The  past  cries  out  against  them  with  its  wrongs. 

And  mem'ry  presses  for  revenge.     They  writhe 

In  all  the  torments  of  contrition's  wheel 

And  backward  gaze  upon  their  crooked  years 

Which  nought  can  straighten.      Happiest  are  they 

Who  in  this  life  their  evil  ways  discover 

And  with  repentant  eyes  trace  out  anew 

The  virtue  whence  they  strayed.     O  holy  stream 

Of  penitence,  wash  out  this  wretched  stain 

Of  passion  false  and  unrestrained  desire. 

Give  me  the  love  which  I  have  spurned,  lead  back 

My  life  to  those  remoter  happier  days 

And  let  my  changed  heart  atone  to  Pelleas. 

[Pelleas  enters.] 
Pelleas 
It  much  repents  me,  this  unhappy  night 
Wherein  I  brought  dissension's  toothed  fiends 
[133] 


To  tear  your  love  asunder.     Anger's  spur 
Too  wanton  played,  and  hate's  distempered  hand 
Caught  from  me  that  soft  robe  of  gentle  thought 
Which  from  barbaric  nakedness  enclothes 
Our  wretched  souls.     That  golden  crown  I  lost 
Which  heav'nly  radiance  binds  to  mortal  brows. 
And  with  unworthy  passion  rode  afield. 
If  words  can  gain  forgiveness  to  a  deed. 
Forgive  me. 

Etarrb 
Nay ;  for  how  shall  I  forgive, 
Nurse  others  into  virtue,  and  myself 
Be  sick  with  every  vice  ?     'Tis  not  the  poor. 
The  starveling  beggar  of  the  street,  who  gives 
Unto  the  rich. 

Pelleas 
The  leper  gives  his  blessing 
And  'tis  as  holy  as  the  touch  of  kings. 
But  you  who  are  in  mercy  rich,  forgive. 

Etarre 
Have  I  been  merciful  and  set  the  bowl 
Of  pity  at  my  gates  ?     I  am  a  fiend 
From  heav'nly  sorrow  shut ;  the  very  stones 
Within  these  walls  are  with  more  mercy  fraught. 
Ten  years  of  wrong  have  left  you  still  as  pure 
In  your  forgiveness  as  a  youth  who  dreams 
All  wrong  illusive,  all  the  world  of  gold. 
I  come  before  you,  penitent  and  shamed, 
Before  your  stainless  honour  throw  me  down 
And  clasp  the  knees  of  mercy.     In  the  house 
[134] 


Of  your  long-garnered  misery  and  ill 
Can  you  yet  find  the  grains  of  pity  stored 
And  uncorrupted  ? 

Pelleas 

I  have  wrongly  done. 
Ten  years  I  have  assailed  you,  made  your  life 
Most  bitter  to  your  lips,  and  at  the  last. 
When  love  before  your  castle  held  his  steed, 
At  dead  of  night  across  his  sleeping  eyes 
Set  fire  of  deadly  vision.     Let  me  go. 
To  death  and  danger  my  atonement  make, 
And  seek  in  new  adventure  novel  crown 
To  bind  my  fading  glory.     I  forgive. 
If  aught  there  be  whereon  forgiveness  waits. 
Take  Gawaine  to  you ;  from  his  erring  throat 
Draw  back  the  sword  which  I  have  laid  athwart. 
And  let  that  curse  be  broken  in  your  heart 
As  in  my  heart  it  now  long  shattered  lies. 
My  sword,  the  hilt  of  Ork,  the  tourney's  meed, 
Return  to  me.     "Be  strong  and  hold  me  fast," 
So  is  it  written. 

[Etarre  gives  him  the  sword.] 

Etarre 
Leave  me  not  alone  ! 
Look,  I  am  changed ;  this  mouth  at  breast  of  hate 
No  more  draws  milk,  these  eyes  no  more  seek  light 
From  wells  of  angry  fire.     Oh,  leave  me  not ! 

Pelleas 
Through  break  of  dawn  I  heard  the  distant  horns 
Of  wild  adventure  from  new  countries  blowing. 
[1351 


Let  me  forget  as  I  have  now  forgiven. 
Be  still,  dead  years,  and  let  me  seek  the  world 
Where  battles  break  like  ocean's  stormy  surge. 
Where  glory  hides  beneath  the  passing  leaf 
And  fame  upon  her  highroad  journeys  far. 

Etarre 

0  dread  event,  and  is  thy  vision  true  ? 

Last  night  within  my  fairest  dreams  appeared 
The  warders  of  the  haunted  well,  and  stretched 
Their  hands  in  supplication.     "  Choose,"  they  said. 
And  I  unto  that  ancient  crone  replied. 
And  knew  that  she  should  comfort  me,  nor  stir 
My  heart  to  the  wild  dreams  of  youth.     "You 

choose 
The  past,"  they  said,  and  vanished  from  my  sight. 
And  I  awoke,  and  cold  against  my  throat 
The  sword  of  anger  pressed.     Gawaine  is  fled ; 

1  drove  him  from  me  with  contemptuous  word 
And  unto  you  with  sudden  passion  turned 
Who  so  have  loved  me.     Do  not  you  depart. 
Make  me  your  helpmate,  teach  me  your  great 

faith. 
And  let  me  live  as  you  have  lived  and  wrought. 

Pelleas 

I  cannot  love  you  now.     This  naked  sword 
Has  cloven  us  for  ever.     Hark,  the  horns  I 

Etarre 
I  hear  no  sound. 

[136] 


Pelleas 

The  horns  !  hark,  how  they  ring  ! 
The  horns  of  wild  adventure  in  my  heart 
CaUing  to  battle  !  calling.  ... 

Etarre 

Give  me  love ! 
Pelleas 

Now  are  the  seas  of  pity  troubled  deep 
Within  my  breast.     I  cannot  love.     Love  comes 
Unheard,  unseen ;  in  silence  so  departs. 
Our  ears  are  not  attuned  to  melody 
Of  his  sweet  progress.     Those  ethereal  sounds 
Vanish  within  us  in  a  dust  of  sense. 
For  who  has  heard  the  fingers  of  the  sun 
That  sweep  across  the  lyre-strings  of  the  rain  ? 
What  mortal  ear  with  sweet  enchantment's  touch 
Has  heard  the  moving  stars  at  play,  or  caught 
The  magic  silver  song  of  floating  moon 
Whereby  the  waves  like  charmed  birds  are  drawn  ? 
We  are  too  grossly  fashioned.     Who  has  heard 
The  midnight  hammer  of  the  winter  frost 
Spanning  the  rivers  with  an  icy  bridge. 
Or  caught  the  ringing  of  his  chisels  keen 
Cutting  the  tracery  of  fern  and  flower 
In  wayside  rut  and  frozen  marsh  and  pool  ? 
We  cannot  hear  the  footfalls  of  the  Spring, 
Nor  answering  cry  of  blossoms  underearth 
In  winter  darkness  waiting  for  the  sun. 
And  Love  we  cannot  hear.     He  comes  and  goes. 
And  no  man  sees  him.    Think  me  not  unkind 
[1371 


So  passionless  to  answer.     Love  Is  fled. 
Unheard  in  silence.     But  the  horns  of  war, 
These  ring  and  cry  within  my  ears.     Farewell ! 
There  is  some  madness  caught  upon  my  life 
And  drawing  me  away.     Hark,  hark,  the  horns  ! 
Farewell,  and  live  in  peace  for  all  your  days. 
[He  suddenly  stoops  to  kiss  her  forehead ;  then  vnth- 
out  a  word  departs.] 

Etarre 
Stay,  stay  !     You  are  betraying  me  to  death  ! 
O  life  !     O  life  !     Broken  the  empty  shell. 
Withered  the  kernel.    Naught  remains.    The  night 
Closes  upon  me  with  its  memories ; 
The  curtain  of  my  life  descends  to  veil 
All  happiness  for  ever  from  mine  eyes. 

[She  turns  to  the  window.] 
Lo,  he  departs :  and  from  my  spirit  flee 
All  present  joys,  all  future  ecstasies. 
And  nought  remains  save  only  thought  withheld 
Upon  the  visions  of  adventured  days. 

[A  pause.] 
Meseems  that  I  have  always  loved  the  past. 
And  now  within  those  halls,  so  drear  and  pale, 
My  habitation  taken  for  all  time. 
O  memory,  live  within  me ;  with  your  hand 
Lay  cooling  touch  upon  my  fevered  brow 
And  draw  my  spirit  toward  the  hills  of  peace. 
[Alone  in  the  room,  she  bows  her  head  within  her 
hands,  and  weeps.] 

CURTAIN 


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